Fic on the Fly
by katinki
Summary: COMPLETE. Edward, let me introduce you to Bella, a not so starry-eyed college student who really doesn't want anything to do with you. Except for maybe to stab you. Starts out kinda canon, then takes a sharp left at a library in Seattle. Some Romance plus some Drama plus some Comedy equals a "Romantic Dramedy". Or something like that. Either way... fun. EPOV. AU.
1. Fire

**Let's play a game!**

Here's how it's going to work:

1. At least once per week, I'll update this (more often if I can or if I am _inspired_). I'll do my best to somehow make it a continuous story (note: I said I'll do my best. I may fail, lol).

**2. What I need from you? PROMPTS. When you review/comment each chapter, give me a word, a phrase, a song, something. I will pick from one of the prompts you ladies give me to use for the next chapter…**

3. No clue how long chapters will be. They might be 100 words. They might be 1000. It will go on until I feel we're at a natural close… or until I completely back myself into a corner.

I have no idea how this will all work out. I make no promises. It might be good. It might be awful. But it'll be fun practice (for me at least) on writing on the fly and maybe fun for you to interact… maybe? Let's try at least, eh? :)

* * *

><p><strong>Pairing: <strong>ExB, AU (Vampfic)  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Some romance, maybe some drama, maybe a dash of humor, likely no _serious_ angst (unless you prompt me that direction, haha).  
><strong>Narration:<strong> we'll likely hang out in Edward's head the whole time… frankly, because I like him more.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #1 (to start us off): Fire<strong>

_Some say the world will end in fire…_

I couldn't speak for the world, but as for myself, at least, Mr. Frost had it right.

It took three days and three nights for my body to finally die.

Three days and three nights of blazing fire and smoldering ash. Three days and three nights of silent screams and of sheer, unbridled pain.

My death, as strange as it was to speak of, involved a kind of pain I'd never experienced before. Unstoppable and unyielding, it was like my skin was being peeled away, like molten lava flowed through my veins, like Hell's own bellows pumped the air through to my lungs.

When I tried to open my eyes, red-tinged blackness swirled all around me until it was all I could see. And in my ears, there was a thunderstorm of pounding beats that started out at a rabbit's pace, but then slowed, and slowed, and slowed, until I could count to a hundred between each boom.

I was powerless to stop it. I could only writhe in agony and pray that my mother's God would somehow take mercy on me and let the fire finally consume me.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #2?<strong>

S. Meyer owns Twilight and lots of other stuff. I have a pocket Edward. I got him on Amazon. He hangs out in my office at work.


	2. Ice

Lots of awesome ideas! Mostly a Lurker, mscope, & mugglemom08 all suggested this next prompt, and pnkats' and alterite's suggestions were in the same vein. So, we'll go with it. Majority rules and all that jazz. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #2: Ice <strong>

If my death had been by the angry hand of Hephaestus, Cheimon took some measure of pity on me.

My torture had seemed to be an endless thing, with flames that rose higher and higher with each thunderous clap of my heart's ventricular valves. As far as I could tell, I was nothing more than a blackened lump of char, yet somehow, I still burned as long as my heart still beat.

But on that the third day, as the last living muscle within my chest shuddered to a silent halt, a sudden, relieving blast of Northern wind swept through my lungs, and with it came creeping fingers of ice that spread through my limbs and vanquished the fire. The pain receded, frozen and numbed, until all that was left was a heated rawness in the back of my throat.

With a gasp, my eyelids fluttered open. Tiny, glittering flecks of silver and gold – snow maybe – floated above my face, swirling and blown upward by the force of my breath. Beyond their winding path, a thousand shades of blues and greens assaulted my eyes, and as if in some kind of surreal dream, I bore witness to a super saturated world that I had no name to call it by.

"Edward?" God boomed.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #3?<strong>

_Hephaestus_ = god of fire, stonemasonry, volcanism, etc

_Cheimon _= is winter in Greek, and according to some texts that's how the goddess of that season is called, too.


	3. Angel

Again, we'll go with majority rules. This one comes from Annalund, fuz, Lurecyka, AnjieNet, and Carandash86.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #3: Angel<strong>

Carlisle Cullen was _not _God.

Although in the years following the fiery transition into my _un_life, I'd have argued that on occasion, he suffered from bouts of a god complex.

I was the first of his _creations_, a boy on the cusp of manhood, who, on a snowy winter night in 1918, amidst the wailing and suffering of a city on the brink of an epidemic, was ripped out of time and place in what Carlisle, in hindsight, called a fit of self_less_ desperation to prevent my impending natural demise and self_ish_ loneliness after centuries of wandering the earth unaccompanied.

I was to be his companion, you see, a progeny of odd sorts, but more so, another gentleman converser with whom he could pass away the endless years. Educated beyond my age and inherently curious, for a while, it was exactly as he meant it to be.

But, alas, my birth – or my _rebirth_, rather – was only the start.

For in another moment of weakness, driven by the instant kind of love and attraction that I could never fathom, Esme, Carlisle's eventual mate, came shortly thereafter.

And then a few years later, there was Rosalie, a beautiful, yet shallow woman who had been abused and left to die on the streets, and interestingly enough, who Carlisle had foolishly believed would be my other half.

Thankfully, for me, at least, a brawny fellow named Emmett lost a battle with a bear in the wooded hills of Appalachia and in the process wrangled away my _intended's_ attentions to become the fifth member of our little group.

And finally, in the summer of 1950, on a sunny afternoon much like today, our so-called family was made complete by the addition of a pair of juxtaposed drifters, Alice and Jasper, the latter of whom gave new meaning to the term battle-worn. With a body littered with crescent-shaped scars, his was an unsettled mind, filled with gory scenes of wars long past, and of course, he had a pair of muddy-colored eyes to match.

For six decades, we seven lived as a close-knit unit, both a part of the ever-changing world around us and apart from it. Never aging, frozen in a twisted image of our human selves, everywhere we ventured, we straddled the line of revered and desired and envied and ostracized.

Hiding celebrities and _nouveau riche_ debutants, some secretly believed us to be.

Ghosts or apparitions, the more creative ones said.

My favorite moniker, however – the one that always gave me an amused chuckle or two – was _angel_.

With skin as pale as virgin cream, with features cleansed and polished by the kiln of transformation, we were perfect to their human eyes. We were flawless, marble deities that moved with the grace and smoothness of the heavens. We were walking, talking, sometimes breathing brushed images of Michelangelo come to life.

In some ways, I supposed, maybe Carlisle was God after all.

Well, only if angels were actually vampires.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #4?<strong>

**Note: **this won't be a canon fic, but it'll likely have a few canon-esque components. You can go ahead and assume the Cullens backgrounds are pretty much canon. Edward's voice here obviously isn't, lol.

Also, even if you're not into dishing out prompts, I'd still love to hear from you from time to time. :)


	4. Boredom

This one comes from Rebadams7 and anakinsmom-fanficcupcake. Dans l'ombre's prompt was along the same lines.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #4: Boredom<strong>

_Your move. _

"Why are we bothering with this again?" I muttered, frowning at the empty squares of black and white.

_Carlisle will be home in ten minutes to tell us that he took the job in Seattle. Plus, this is a normal thing to do. _

Seattle. Interesting enough. It'd been a while since we'd ventured to the Pacific Northwest.

"Alice, normal is the last thing I'd term us."

Driven by the ennui of age and the languor of been-there-done-that-a-thousand-times, we often played these pseudo human parts. In all actuality, sitting here on the bamboo floor and Indian-style, Alice and I were not an uncommon image at all.

Granted, we were certainly an odd one, even here amongst the bizarreness of our own, and more often than not, more than a few wondering thoughts and shaking heads were directed our way.

Because only my _sister_ and I would play chess without the pieces.

With an exaggerated huff and roll of her amber eyes, Alice sighed. _You're so melodramatic sometimes. Do you know that? _

"No, I merely speak the truth. How many chess players do you know read minds or foretell the future?"

_Two. You make me sound like a gypsy. _She huffed again. _Now just go, Edward. I'd like to finish this game before I start packing. _

This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Why don't you just tell me who wins? That way you can get started."

_I do, of course._ A hint of a wicked smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. _But go ahead, I still want to play. _

"Fine. Knight to E5."

That hint of a wicked smirk spread into an even wickeder grin, a blinding image of predetermined victory. "You're toast!"

"Surprise, surprise."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #5?<strong>

A couple of people asked me if I had an outline… Nope! That's the purpose here. Normally, I'm an outlining fiend, one of those who never even starts writing without a complete one.

This is an exercise in not outlining and still trying to tell a semi-cohesive story of sorts. Sure, I have half a dozen "directions" this could go in my head, but you ladies are the ones directing the show. :)

No worries, Bella won't be too far along. Just getting us to Seattle.

eta: lol, thx billi. ;)


	5. Hunt

This one comes from betsmecullen, Mgonz595, Dans l'ombre, TwilightMomofTwo.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #5: Hunt<strong>

Finally – _finally_ – alone, deep in the verdant, teeming heart of the Olympic Peninsula, for a few precious, although brief, moments, I heard nothing but for the natural sounds of my surroundings.

There were no honking horns here, no humming HVACs, no sirens, no people, and most importantly, no unwanted voices or images in my head. When I breathed in, sucking the damp air deep into my stone lungs, the bitter trace of decaying leaves and the pungent aroma of conifers attacked my tongue, displacing the cloying taste of the city.

Never mind my god blessed, or maybe more appropriately, god damned, vampiric recall, when Alice had announced our next _home_, I'd somehow managed to forget city life. Rather, I'd forgotten about all the reasons and whyfores that made me prefer living… anywhere else.

Certainly, I knew that Seattle had its benefits – namely its general lack of sun and the presence of a decent university – but like any other city, East Coast or West, it boasted _noise_ and _stench_ and perhaps worst of all, the necessity for our family of sorts to live in relatively close quarters.

You see, for a creature that could hear as well as a cat and who saw even the most secretive and intimate of scenes, living as the only single male in a house full of mated – and very much _in love _– pairs, some days it was all I could do to not lose my mind. Blood and its necessary sustenance was only half the reason I took off at a flat dead run at five in the morning.

With a relieved sigh at my moment of solitude, my muscles uncoiled, loosening in preparation. For the passing of a second, as the sun broke the horizon and crept between the trees, I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation of its alien _heat _– of the radiance that warmed the ice just a few degrees. It was pleasant, and as long as I didn't look down, I didn't have to note the other, not so subtle, shimmering reminder of my less than human appearance.

I breathed in again and tasted a new, tangy-sweet scent floating on the westerly breeze. As though awakening from a long sleep, my _other_ senses yawned and stretched, and when I caught the delicious _glub-glub_ of its pumping heart, every cell in my body instantly tuned and focused on the entity no more than one hundred and fifty meters away.

My mouth poured venom, and the ever-present rawness in the back of my throat surged like an inferno, compelling me to crouch low and to move fast. With a quickness unsurpassed by even my own kind, I raced through the trees, dodging boulders and nearly throwing myself across a wide, shallow stream, targeting_ it_.

I wanted it. I wanted the thick, luscious blood that flowed through its veins. Even though the animal was a lesser drink – a poor substitute for what my body truly craved – it was the only thing in earshot that promised to douse the flames and quell my rising thirst.

The lion had the nerve to fight me, hissing and growling in useless anger, swiping its razor claws across my chest and shredding my clothing in the process. He was a big cat, too, with thick tawny fur that stood on end when his attack failed to take me down. A far better sport and meal than the lowly deer from Wisconsin, his heart pounded like a drum as he roared and pawed at me again.

I laughed at him.

Just before my teeth sliced through hide, sinew, and finally vein.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #6?<strong>


	6. School

edward-n-bella-fr-eternity1207, simplynothingtosay, withany, and TwilightMomofTwo came up with this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #6: School<strong>

A sign bearing the name, _Odegaard,_ caught my eye and changed my course.

Searching for some form of suitable distraction before my first morning class – hopefully, a relatively quiet one – a library was a welcome sight.

I strolled through the front glass doors, instantly satisfied by the decrease in sound, both in my ears and in my mind. And as I breathed that first sigh of relief, tasting the dusty musk of worn leather and pressed paper, it struck me that it'd been not just a while since we had attended university, but almost half a lifetime by human standards.

With countenances better matched to teenaged years, high school and all its inevitable high school inanity was our normal Hell. Mind numbing as it was, suffering the world of sixteen and seventeen year olds allowed us to blend in amongst the human populace, to assimilate to what extent we could, and moreover and more importantly, it allowed us to stay in one place for longer periods of time – a rarity for our kind, but the aim of our _family_.

You see, this new city was different than Park Falls and our last dozen small-town haunts. Seattle and the surrounding area was large enough and its occupants numerous enough for us to hide ourselves and our otherness for at least half a decade or more, we believed, which in turn, allowed us – fine, mostly me – a much needed reprieve from the absurdity of adolescence.

As I perused the bottom floor, passing by a long wooden desk and rows of matching carrels, on the far right, I noticed a handful of new freshmen and returning sophomores lounging on a pair of couches. Blue hair, pink hair, and with faces full of metal, these _students_ weren't quite what I recalled from Harvard in the 1950's. The names on the books they held had changed, too – Hemmingway and Joyce and Pound had now been replaced by the intellectual meanderings of Gaddis and Borges and Pynchon.

Their thoughts, however, hadn't changed at all.

_Sex. _

The staple of college life, no matter the decade or era.

With a stifled chuckle and shrug, I made my way up the center stairs, grabbing a random text as I went and once at the top, targeting a quiet corner. Still amused by these young intellectuals, I settled into the worn out pocket of a solitary leather chair, and for half an hour or so, I focused on the flipping pages, doing my damnedest to push the incessant and ever present hum of voices to the very back of my mind.

But as the clock ticked just past eight, I realized that something wasn't quite right.

There was a continual pricking of my awareness. Nothing obvious or alarming, but rather something subtle enough that it took me a while to even notice. It was a strange, bemusing sensation, and it made me increasingly and oddly restless, incapable of assuming my usual stillness and calm. With each passing minute, I found it harder and harder to concentrate on the words on the page in my lap, so much so that I finally gave up.

With a muffled thump, I closed my nameless book and scanned the room, searching for the source of my inexplicable unease.

At such an early hour, the second floor was nearly vacant. Only a handful shared my space.

On my left, a young man with thick black glasses slumped over a table, on the cusp of sleep and snoring ever so lightly.

Diagonal and to the right, two young women ducked their heads and giggled over a blackberry, pretending that they hadn't just been staring.

And directly across the way, an elderly woman with squeaky rubber shoes and teased gray hair pushed a cart piled high with stacks of unfiled books.

For me, understand, humans were equations of sorts, unmistakable and highly individual combinations of sights, sounds, smells, and silent thoughts that my vampire mind processed and stored without my conscious direction. Each person had a signature, an identity that once registered, I never misplaced. But now, as I delved deep into that depository, purposefully inspecting each and every person I'd seen in this building, I realized that that was the problem.

There was a being here that defied my typing, a _presence_ somewhere in the shadows of my periphery that I'd only partially sorted.

Something akin to mild panic – a first in my entire existence – coupled with a vicious kind of curiosity forced my eyes wide and slowly turned my head left.

About the time my eyes found this confounding anomaly, however, _she_ found _me_.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #7?<strong>

_Odegaard Undergraduate Library_ is one of several UoW libraries. I took some liberties with its layout.

_Park Falls_ is a real place. It's smallish, size and population-wise, and is located in northern Wisconsin, near Chequamegon National Forest.


	7. Discombobulated

I couldn't resist Maplestyle's prompt because it's one of my favorite words. MonaLiza1503's and That'sMzPeachesTYVM's were along the same lines.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #7: Discombobulated<strong>

In less time than the span of her heartbeat, I'd already catalogued and filed this human oddity.

Somewhere in her early twenties, she was a small thing, sitting there to my left with a half-read book of her own. Slim, but not waifish like the pink-haired girls downstairs, she occupied barely half the chair, and the rubber-tipped toes of her tennis shoes not quite skimmed the floor beneath her.

Long, dark hair.

Even darker eyes.

And with a heart-shaped face as pale as a ghost.

For a split second, from the abrupt, expressive lift of her brows and drop of her pink, chapped lips, she looked as though she'd seen one. As quickly as those brows lifted, however, in a move that vexed me far more than it should have, they dropped in schooled obedience, and the girl buried her nose back in her book as though I didn't exist at all, leaving me alone in a one-man staring competition.

Not daring to look away, I searched for her thoughts, digging deeper, sorting through the dull roar that I'd been so adamant to ignore.

_God, he's always late. That asshole. I'm going to kill him… _

_I can't do this. How do people learn this? I'm going to fail and mom's going to kill me…_

_I'm never drinking again. Ever. No matter what Matt says… Oh, fuck, my head…_

Mind after boring mind, I searched for this girl's internal voice, but each time I thought I'd pinned it down, I came up empty and defeated.

She was utterly silent to me.

Frustrated and baffled beyond reason, I didn't understand it at all. If I'd still been human, I'd have said that I was damned near dizzy from the unexpected surge of anger and confusion.

For not once, not one single time since the moment of my making nearly one hundred years ago, had my _hearing_ been rendered so entirely ineffective. And worse, as if to purposefully taunt and jab at my ego, my foe wasn't one of my own, but rather this… _girl_, this weak human girl who dared to challenge _me_.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I was too stunned to answer it. And then, without any conscious direction, my feet abruptly moved of their own volition and I stood before I'd even realized it.

I crossed the room slowly, quietly, but I knew the moment she saw me approaching. Her slender fingers gripped her book tighter, turning her knuckles white, and when I was about half way, her eyes darted up to my face before quickly falling back to the page.

Ten feet away, still eyeing her like the enigma she was, I stopped and sampled the air.

An astonishing, mind-bending bloom of fire suddenly ripped down my throat, making me choke and grab the base of my neck. Every single muscle in my body locked down, coiling for the strike, and venom swamped my mouth in a torrential flood.

This silent girl was, barring none, the most luscious smelling creature I'd ever encountered in all my years walking this earth, and I knew with utter certainty, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when – not if – my teeth cut through her tender flesh, she'd be absolutely delicious.

The _most _delicious.

_Ever._

A hundred scenes of horrific violence flashed before my eyes – a hundred brutal ways that I could take her. Quickly. Slowly. Drawn out over years if I could make her last that long, she could be my own personal fountain.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, trying to banish away the instinctual _requirement _to kill her.

At least not here.

As if she somehow detected the sadistic war raging inside me, the girl looked up again and regarded me with disturbing clarity and knowledge, so much so that I was given half a second of lucidity. When my foot involuntarily dragged forward, her dark eyes narrowed and her expression morphed into what I could only take for anger.

Anger?

It was that unquestionably, but I knew that it was at least in part bravado. The telltale, tantalizing uptick of her heart and spike of adrenaline made my fists curl like talons in preparation.

Slowly, she closed her book, and had I not been near-crazed by the draw of her oh-so-sweet blood, I'd have laughed when I saw the cover.

_Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter._

What the…

"What the hell are you?" I rasped, still clutching my throat, resisting every single urge in my body to take her down where she sat and suck her dry – here, now, irrelevant of any who'd see and in spite of my decades of abstinence.

Her lips turned down into a harsh grimace, as she spat, "You get the hell out of my city, _vampire_."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #8?<strong>


	8. Flight

Thanks, Igitt, for the prompt!

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #8: Flight <strong>(as opposed to fight)

"Alice! What the–"

"I don't know, okay!" My all-knowing _sister _flew from one end of the room to the other in an inky streak – her version of pacing. "I didn't see her until the last minute. And even then she was…" In a fit of frustration, Alice threw up her hands and streaked back across the room. "_Fuzzy_."

Incredulous, I _accidentally_ smacked the nearest table, wincing only slightly at the resulting spray of mahogany splinters. "_Fuzzy?_ Is that your technical assessment?"

"Edward, calm down. Alice can't see everything."

"Oh, you calm down, Jasper," I spat, plopping into the nearest chair, as he did exactly that and by association, brought us all down with him. Damnable empath.

I sighed. "Seriously, though, how the hell did you miss _that_, Alice?"

"I have no idea," she muttered, slipping down to one of the couches. "One minute you were there reading. The next, she was there, too, and you were going to drink her."

"I almost killed that godforsaken crazy girl." I could smell her even now – the delicate, almost floral aroma of her pumping blood – and my mouth instantly responded by slicking my teeth. My brief and bloody massacre of half the fauna of Wenatchee National Park hadn't done a thing to cool the fire that burned for that girl.

"Wait," Emmett suddenly rumbled, peeking his head around the doorframe. "You didn't kill her?"

"No!" Alice and I yelled at once.

"What did you do?" Undisguised and entirely inappropriate amusement riddled Emmett's inner voice. In his head he actually referred to me as a girl. "Edward seriously _ran away? _From a _human?_"

"What the fu–" I stole a quick glance to my left to where Esme sat there watching me with a smile and preternatural calm and thought better of my phrasing. "What would you have preferred, Emmett? That I'd have killed her?"

Emmett shrugged. "It happens."

"No, it doesn't!" Carlisle and I said together.

"Whatever." He shrugged again and as if to purposefully taunt me, his mind bent back to decades past and to a hot summer day on an old country road. A decadent, luscious fragrance colored the air, so incredibly _sweet_, made somehow better by the heavy, wet thump of a racing heart.

"God, stop it!" I shot up and plastered myself against the farthest wall. "Think about baseball or something."

Being the asshole my _brother_ was, he thought about Rosalie.

"Jerk," I muttered, to which he just laughed.

"Seriously, Edward, what are you going to do?"

Slumping against the wall, I scrubbed my face, trying to rid myself of that blasted scent, then cursing when my too-perfect memory refused to allow it. "I need to leave. I can't risk it, Carlisle. I don't know how, happenstance or not, but that human knows what I am. Worse, if I see her again, she's as good as dead."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #9?<strong>

Thanks so much for all your prompts! I'm having such fun with this. Hope you are, too.

If you're wondering how I'm picking prompts… well, it's whatever strikes me when I see it. Sometimes the majority rules, sometimes not. I'm also trying to pick prompts from different people. If I haven't picked one of yours yet, I'm doing my best to make the rounds. I'll try to get to you as the "story" progresses. And again, if you don't want to throw out prompts, that's a-okay, too. I'd still love to hear from you. :)


	9. Alaska

This one belongs to quitomom and Igitt (again).

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #9: Alaska<strong>

I crossed the snowline at half past midnight.

High in both altitude and latitude, despite it only being September, it was already well below zero, cold enough that were I still human, I'd be freezing to death in my shirtsleeves and denim. As it were, like the veritable block of stone that I was, the temperature didn't even faze me. My body simply cooled to match the air.

On an outcropping of boulders, overlooking the vast taiga below and far up enough that oxygen was spare, I halted my lengthy retreat and settled onto a bench-like ledge. High above, sliding rivers of incandescent greens and pinks bathed the sky in suffused light, and when I breathed in – _finally_ – I tasted pine.

Two and a half days, two bears, and two thousand miles had to be enough, I contended.

You see, despite my family's protestations to the contrary, not to mention Emmett's entertainment at my misfortune, I _ran_ from the little human who smelled like a dream, as far as I could.

But now that I'd made it to my intended destination, staring up into the shifting heavens, I was at a loss. How long I'd need to stay, I didn't know, and what I'd do up here to amuse myself, I had no clue. My argument held, however, that as long I hid myself away in the Alaskan wilderness, I'd not kill that delusional girl.

I supposed I could at least play with the wildlife. At least they were bigger up here, and perhaps more _sporting_. Maybe Carlisle would even send me my books.

Yes, surely I'd find some way to while away the days.

"Privet moj dorogoj," came from somewhere behind me.

Damn it, she was quick.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #10? <strong>

Note: there are a few accepted ways to transliterate Russian/Cyrillic. The way I was taught, j = й.

Privet moj dorogoj = Привет мой дорогой = which is like saying, "Hello, my darling/sweetheart."


	10. Rejection

lmao you guys _really _don't like Tanya, eh?

Majority definitely rules on this one; lots along the same lines. We'll go with writinginthemargins' prompt specifically.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #10: Rejection<strong>

Tanya wasn't evil.

_Per se. _

She was, however, along with her sisters, _persistent_. Not to mention a succubus. The real deal, too. In fact, were we not such a secretive species, her face, in all its seductive glory, would have been pasted beside the word in every dictionary known to man as both definition and warning.

Unfortunately – or fortunately, at least according to my _brothers_ – for me, I had been in her sights from the moment we first met back in 1942. Since that _fortuitous_ - and not to mention exceedingly awkward – meeting, she'd named me her greatest conquest yet to be had.

One would think I'd have been flattered.

Not really.

Understand, with my second hearing I saw the truth of the matter. It wasn't so much that Tanya wanted _me_, or that she even found me especially attractive. It was more the vexation that out of her centuries upon centuries of _experience_, I was the only male, vampire or human, who'd ever declined her… invitations. And Tanya had never been one for rejection.

It wasn't as though I were blind. Being the hundred-year-old virgin that I was didn't mean that I didn't appreciate her… _assets_. Tall, statuesque, with curves and features human models the world over would kill for, she was absolutely beautiful. Flawless even. Another man would have gladly given in, regardless of her reasons – perhaps even given his right arm for the advances I routinely turned down.

Alas, not me. Men with my particular upbringing simply didn't behave that way.

And after all, it wasn't just my face that was frozen a century ago.

With a graceful bound from a boulder behind me, she shot up into the air, somersaulted twice, and landed in a spray of powdery snow.

"Tanya," I greeted with what I hoped was a smile, trying not to wince when she settled in shoulder to shoulder.

Before she even answered, a dozen lurid scenes blasted from her mind, all involving her and myself, none involving clothing. In less than the blink of an eye, I caught one image of something resembling handcuffs and a whip and razor sharp nails scraping down my back

I could only shake my head. Modern erotica had nothing on Tanya. She should write a book. Or offer courses.

"Edward," she purred, flashing me a row of brilliant white teeth that reflected the shifting aurora above. "Jeto bylo davno, da? Ja soskuchilas' po tebe."

"English, please," I laughed, flicking a handful of snow into the wind, watching the misshapen pattern of a million tiny flakes.

Tossing a mane of perfectly coiffed flaxen curls, she scoffed. "You understand me fine."

That much was the truth. Being the gentleman that I was, however, I just didn't want to tell her that her mind was a more pleasant place to be when she was busy translating.

"Humor me?"

"Very well. Only because I like you." She rolled her amber eyes and bumped my shoulder. "Alice said you were visiting for short time. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

In her head, she added something to the effect of finally being reasonable.

I opened my mouth as if answer - and to deny her unspoken wish... again - only strangely, I found that no words came out and my mind blanked. Instead, I just stared up at the glittering sky, bemused when the outline of a face appeared in the stars.

"Woman troubles?" she finally guessed before pinching her lips in assumed insult. Her thoughts turned a lovely shade of green.

"Ah…" I forced a chuckle, still staring at the ghost of a face my mind had created. Becoming ever clearer with passing second, a pair of angry, accusing eyes glared back at me. That damned girl wouldn't leave me alone! "Not exactly. At least not in the way you might think."

One perfect brow shot to her hairline. "Try me."

"Has anyone ever…" I started, and then stopped when my fingers broke into the rock beneath me. "Has anyone ever smelled… _too good_?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and for the first time since I'd been privy to her thoughts, I was entirely absent from them. Instead, in my usual place, there was the image of a young man with golden skin, coal-black hair, and deep blue eyes that seemed to somehow churn and eddy. At first, his sharp features were alight in a picture of unbridled ecstasy, but then, without warning, in the span of a single heartbeat, they morphed into that of sheer agony. An unnatural, high-pitched scream rang in my ears, and on my face, I felt the hot splatter when his carotid severed.

"Volodya," she whispered. Sorrow and unmistakable regret riddled her tone, yet the mind-bending taste of his blood and the exhilaration it incited still lingered as though she'd taken him yesterday.

"How long ago?"

Tanya turned and looked at me, for once serious. "Six hundred and twenty-two years. Not single day passes that I don't think of him."

"You mean, think of his blood."

She nodded and followed my gaze to the heavens. "So you killed your singer, yes? And now you mourn like Carlisle would and hide in my icy world?"

Shaking my head, trying very, very hard to _not_ think of the perfection that that girl's blood would be – the thick, sublimely rich texture of it, the silk of it sliding down my throat, the incomparable warmth of it, the thumping pulse of her heart pushing it onto my waiting tongue - and failing miserably. "No." I coughed flames and then swallowed back a lake of venom. "I didn't."

"You didn't?" Tanya eyed me like some kind of mad man. "But _how_?"

I shrugged. "I ran."

"And you think you won't run right back there first chance you get?"

My forehead crumpled in confusion. "Whatever do you mean? I'll stay away from her until this… whatever it is," I gave a haphazard wave of my hand, "passes."

"Silly boy," she laughed, full-throated, throwing back her head and kicking her feet, as if I'd just told the joke of the century. "Her siren call knows no distance, Edward." She laughed again, harder. "I give you twenty-four hours. No more than this. And that's only because you're so stubborn."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #11? <strong>


	11. Defeat

This one belongs to AnjieNet and for the love of cullens.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #11: Defeat<strong>

I wasn't used to creeping around.

After all, being at the top of the food chain and for all intents and purposes immortal tended to make one fairly bold. At least when it came to walking around on cloudy days.

But no, not any more. Back in Seattle after not another run, but the first direct flight from Fairbanks, I was reduced to slinking around campus like some kind of vicious criminal.

Though going by the statute of limitations on murder, I supposed both descriptors were accurate enough.

You see, Tanya had been righter than she'd ever dreamed, and as a result, the beautiful, knowing smirk she'd worn as I'd fled those northern icy confines would taunt me for decades to come.

Twenty-four hours?

I'd lasted less than ten.

After having finally reached my destination, understand, I'd had no other form of distraction – aside from escaping the claws of a willing and tenacious wishful lover, of course. But in all seriousness, as I'd traipsed through the Alaskan wilderness, searching for sport, for food, for anything to occupy my attention, instead, as if my own mind were out to smite me, everywhere I'd looked – on every tree, every rock, every web of bony antlers – I'd found that damnable, delusional girl's face. Those dark, reproving eyes. The hard, quivering brace of her jaw. The way her lips had stretched and frowned as she spat at me to be on my merry way.

Ignoring the outrageous and nearly all-consuming allure of her blood for a moment, the girl's behavior was downright infuriating, not to mention naïve and foolish in the extreme. Threatening a vampire, especially one who wanted nothing more than to eat the one doing the threatening, was just bad form.

Yet at the same time, however, there was _something_ about the challenge this girl presented. It wasn't simply the puzzle of her vault of a mind, but also how she'd named me for what I was. Very few humans could name us on sight. In fact, I'd never encountered a single one who had landed on the truth by more than happenstance. But not this girl. No, she knew immediately what I was; I'd heard it in the quickened wet thump of her heart.

So for a creature such as myself, one who was rarely gifted the sensation of surprise, I came to the conclusion that she was utterly fascinating. Captivating even, never mind I knew next to nothing about her.

Fury, curiosity, and raging bloodlust was a very, very dangerous combination, by the way.

It turned my resolve to mush and somehow convinced me that the girl held no power over me after all. It told me that she was a mere mortal and that my internal fortitude was mightier than my baser instincts. And it made me tell my _family_ that I needed no supervision.

How wrong I was.

Especially when the moment I stepped into my first nine o'clock class, after having skipped that first week, that same pair of angry eyes widened in shock and the scent of her blood hit me like a ton of bricks.

_Again. _

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #12? <strong>

Quick note: Since it's been brought up by a couple of people, I _am_ using a lot of canon here in the beginning (and will use other pieces as we go along), but this won't just be a retelling of Twilight. Keep in mind at 7k words, we're still in the set-up phase, if you will, and I'll contend a mostly canon Edward would behave well… mostly in canon given the circumstances. Hence the Midnight Sun parallels. New stuff coming up (after all, we have a Bella who already knows about vamps and we don't know how she got that info…). No worries there. Thanks for reading!


	12. Slayer

JTFanfic owns this one. Several of you voted for this one back a few "chapters" ago, too. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #12: Slayer<strong>

Just like the last time I'd encountered this bizarre anomaly, my entire body reacted.

Immediately and without mercy.

As I sucked down that first debilitating breath, something resembling hellfire blasted up my throat, and a violent, raw hunger roared inside my empty stomach in response, so powerful and so instinctual that for a split second, my mind blanked of all thought, of all emotion, except for that of pure, animal need.

The smell of her blood…

Confined in this smaller space, it was otherworldly, somehow stronger than it had been in the library. I'd not thought such a thing was possible. It _shouldn't_ have been. Her scent was something conjured out of both heaven and hell, both my salvation and my damnation.

And her sounds…

There were fifty other students in this room, but as far as I was concerned, in this moment, they, including their yammering minds, were nothing more than dull background noise. Non-existent compared to the dark-haired prey before me.

The soft swipe of her tongue across her pale pink lower lip. The faint rustle of shifting fabric when she leaned forward. And for me at least, her heart might as well have been a pounding kettledrum. That delicious, mouth-watering _rush-rush_ of pumping blood was maddening in its call. My ears found her heart's rhythm as surely as if it were beating in my own chest.

I was going to kill her. I was going to suck her dry.

I knew it.

If she made one move, if she dared to taunt that baser side of me I'd thought I could control, I'd never be able to stop myself. I'd take down every single one of the rest of these _children_ just so that I could have her here and now.

She was as good as dead.

And she had the nerve to look _angry_ with me.

Damnable girl.

"Excuse me?"

And now I was hearing things.

"Excuse me?" a voice repeated, this time louder.

Confused by the intrusion and, thankfully, in the process granted a sliver of sanity, my head swiveled to the left. Two feet away and standing by a dark wooden lectern, a forgettable forty-something with sandy blonde hair, oily skin, and too much mascara regarded me with self-important annoyance.

"Young man?" she called again, narrowing her eyes. "Did you sign up for this course?"

Dumbly, I nodded, swallowing back a mouthful of venom, and glanced back across the room. That girl – my prey – frowned sharply in that same expression that had followed me over two thousand miles and her knuckles turned white around the edges of her desk.

"Name?"

Not looking away, watching the way the girl's throat bobbed, I answered automatically, though my voice came out as something between a whisper and a growl. "Cullen."

With unnecessary flourish, the professor tapped her pen and over a pair of wire-rimmed frames, read out my name. "Well, Mr. _Edward_ Cullen, I see you didn't quite make it last week. So kind of you to grace us with your presence. Take a seat." She pointed to the lone empty chair, of course directly beside my delectable foe. "There's one in the back, next to Ms. Swan. That will be your seat for the entire semester. I don't tolerate slacking, so don't think you can skip and pass my class."

I swore under my breath.

Every bone in my body said to move forward, to take, to give in to the raging thirst. Yet there was a nagging little voice somewhere in the back of my mind that wanted me to run away, this time for good. This close, after trying that whole running thing once before and failing so miserably, my bones easily won that battle.

As my feet carried me between the narrow rows of desks toward the prey of my waking dreams, I watched her suck in a deep breath that expanded her chest and hold it as though she were trying to resist coming at me herself.

Stunned, I almost laughed at her kittenish fury. But in that moment, something else happened, too. A second of reason told me to do the same, and I silently kicked myself for not thinking of it sooner. Not breathing, sealing my lungs against that infernal scent, I still burned, but at least I could think.

I could make it through this one class, I argued, and not create a scene. I could resist her. Afterward, I'd figure out… _something_. Some way to escape this godforsaken girl and not break my sixty-some odd years of abstinence. I could do that, I silently chanted.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, as I stiffly settled into the chair beside her, leaning as far away from her as I could. "I told you to leave my city, _leech_."

My eyes widened, incredulous and surprised yet again, and for just a moment, I was distracted from the only slightly muted fire burning me from the inside and the urge to sink my teeth into the pale column of her throat.

Considering what she already implicitly knew – how or why, I still had no clue – I saw no need to attempt hiding what I truly was.

"Leech? Really?" I raised my brows. "That's rather insulting, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you prefer _bloodsucker?"_ she growled. Her heartbeat thundered in my ears, and in her hand, she gripped a bright yellow pencil.

"Seriously?" I chuckled, expending far, far too much of my remaining air. But amused for the first time in ages and so thoroughly taken aback by this strange, infuriating human, I couldn't resist it when her lips mashed together in insult and the sharpened point of her pencil angled toward me.

"What? Are you planning to stake me with that?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #12? <strong>


	13. Stalemate

FantasyMother got this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #13: Stalemate<strong>

"I wish," she muttered under her breath, turning her pencil away as if she hadn't even realized what she'd been doing. She stared at me far too intently for my liking. "You're following me, aren't you?"

"I am not!" I replied curtly, using what little air I had left. "Absolutely not."

Okay, that was only half a lie.

"Don't bother lying, bloodsucker." She had as much venom in her voice as I had in my mouth.

"Mr. Cullen? Ms. Swan? Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

The girl and I instantly froze. Apparently, our _introductions_ hadn't gone unnoticed, and now, at the front of the room, still wearing that same self-important annoyance, Professor Boring glared at us from the other side of her lectern as though our lack of attention mortally wounded her.

I supposed it wouldn't do to explain to this young-ish professor that I'd read the entire syllabus already – many times in fact. No, judging by the heat spitting from her thoughts, that likely wouldn't do at all. You see, over the years, especially after the mishaps of my earlier days amongst the school-aged populace, I'd learned that human instructors, high school or college, rarely took well to being bested or intellectually embarrassed by those they perceived to be lesser entities. It offended their fragile egos, if you will, so as such, in an effort to blend in and to _not_ call attention to myself, I'd mastered the art of faux contrition.

The bad thing was, however, that I had no more breath with which to apologize. I'd foolishly spent it all laughing at and arguing with my would-be attacker, so I could only turn my lips down in regret and duck my head as though I were properly chastised.

"Well?" she asked again. Fifty heads turned toward us, their thoughts awash in that train-wreck like exhilaration of seeing one's peers admonished in public.

Fortunately for me, the girl, and really, everyone else, _she_ spoke up, her voice abruptly softening into something almost sweet, oddly pleasing to the ear. "No, Professor Reynolds. I was just helping… _him_… find his place in the text."

My eyes darted to the girl. That harsh frown had morphed into a matching sweet smile, making her face highly feminine and more than alluring, but even without hearing her thoughts, I wasn't fooled. Unmistakable scorn – _for me_ – poured off of her rigid posture.

So I just sat there, flabbergasted, and having been temporarily forced to pause our likely eventually deadly confrontation, the remainder of the class continued without incident.

For what felt like days, the professor droned on, discussing artistic life in the sixteenth century England. Instead of listening, always aware of the fleeting, surreptitious glances my way, however, I spent every moment split between the usual imaginings of tearing out the girl's throat and sucking down every drop of her too-perfect blood and asking her what her problem was with me.

Frankly, being hated without good reason wasn't exactly something I enjoyed.

_Leech? Bloodsucker?_ Where did she find this garbage?

Again, being fascinated by one's potential food – and admittedly, insulted by it – was… _different_ for me. New, perhaps slightly exciting, and very, very frustrating, especially when I wasn't privy to her thoughts. That, in and of itself, was enough to drive me insane.

At five past ten, a short series of chimes announced that my torture was over. Turning to the side, I sipped the barest volume of air I dared, just enough to ask the one question that had plagued my mind since the moment I saw her, wincing and curling my fists when fire blazed through my insides.

"What is your deal?" I whispered. "What did I do to you?"

The girl quickly shoved her books inside her bag before turning to me with outright hatred in her eyes.

"You killed my father, you asshole."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #14? <strong>

**Keep 'em coming! I love all your comments. Thank you so much for hitching a ride on this little ficlet. :)  
><strong>


	14. Retribution

Two ladies suggested this one: arfalcon and Anna Faze.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #14: Retribution<strong>

"_You killed my father, you asshole."_

It took a solid five minutes to process exactly what she'd said, during which I was rendered completely immobile, slumped in my chair in the now-empty classroom, and left half-gaping like the awkward and callow youth I truly wasn't.

Of all the possible scenarios I'd imagined, which, granted, were few considering how little I knew of this bizarre girl, for whatever reason, I'd never even entertained the notion that her _experience_ with my kind was actually genuine and first-hand. No, despite her accuracy in naming me for what I was, I'd still anticipated something more along the lines of too many late night B-movies, or books, or perhaps even some kind of conspiracy theorist upbringing.

Not truth and fact.

Definitely not death.

It wasn't as though human deaths were uncommon in my world. In reality, they weren't _un_common at all. Vampires were a fairly brutal species, you see, and unlike my _family_ and our _cousins_ to the north, the overwhelming majority of our kind suffered no compunction whatsoever over killing a human. For most, humans were little more than food. Delicious food at that, as evidenced by my own primal and violent reaction to her mind-numbingly sweet blood.

Of course, _I_ had _not_ killed her father. That much I knew without any question. But apparently, someone _like me_ had, and that little piece of knowledge certainly explained the girl's instant and seemingly illogical hatred.

Understand, I didn't know this girl at all, so the situation shouldn't have bothered me beyond my usual disapproval of my kind's typical _carnivorous_ ways.

After all, she was just a human, a mere mortal, a flash in the pan in comparison to my perpetuity. She and her damnable knowledge posed a risk of exposure that I'd normally and smartly never allow. And beyond all that, the woman held nothing but scorn for me.

No, her loss, while surely unfortunate, _shouldn't_ have troubled me.

Yet for reasons I couldn't hope to articulate, as I envisioned that brief moment when she'd addressed the professor instead of me – when her frown had morphed into a sweet, feminine smile and when her harsh voice had softened, and in the process revealed what kind of woman lurked beneath that hateful, spitting façade – my fists involuntarily flexed, instantly crushing the desktop with a loud, ear-splitting pop.

Never mind the fact that I wanted her blood more than anything else on the planet, the suffering of this unknown girl at the hand of my species made me irrationally angry.

The chimes sounded again, announcing that I'd spent not just five minutes here, but an entire hour, contemplating this new revelation. And as I rose from my seat to finally leave the classroom, a strange, buzzing warmth shot down my spine, and with a low growl that vibrated through my chest, I realized that while I didn't have the ability to alter history, I wanted to… _rectify_ that girl's distress in whatever manner I could.

I wanted to help settle her score, if you will, albeit in some small, insignificant way.

Namely, I wanted to tear that other vampire to pieces and present his head to her on a silver platter.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #15? <strong>

**Did this past week suck for anyone else? Ugh, work. DNW. **


	15. Investigation

Aha, it would seem majority rules again :) This one is from Lurecyka, AnjieNet, and 22Blue. Dans I'ombre's and Samolly's were along the same lines.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #15: Investigation<strong>

This new, irrational anger and its corresponding need for vengeance on this girl's behalf made my behavior equally irrational.

For one, it made me think of the girl entirely too much, even more so than before, if such a thing were possible. And considering what I actually was and exactly what her blood did to me, all of that_ thinking_ was not good for my baser self. In fact, it did nothing but leave my insides in a constant state of hollowness and it made my mouth perpetually and annoyingly wet.

Secondly, the anger or maybe it was just the damnable thirst, made me kill and drink my furry meals with a gusto I'd not experienced in decades. It was almost embarrassing the excess my throat demanded. Vampires should not require three or four deer in one feeding and they definitely should _not_ feel _sloshy_ afterward. Granted, I could make the argument being anything less than _sloshy_ was downright foolish considering the temptation she represented. But still, I'd never been such a glutton before this girl and her godforsaken smell.

But above all else, this new anger that quickened my step and randomly clenched my fists made me forget that little vow I'd made during that first class – the one where I had said that to avoid killing the girl myself, I would leave… permanently.

No, instead, I did the very opposite. Which was why on Wednesday morning at five until nine, I found myself back in that classroom, holding my breath and waiting. For her.

When she stepped through the doorway, her eyes swept the room before ultimately landing on me. Like our two other encounters, the expression she wore told me everything I needed to know.

Anger and indignation in the thin line of her pink lips.

Poorly held frustration in the brace of her delicate jaw.

Something on the verge of defeat in her dark eyes.

But her heart gave her away. The moment she saw me, sitting there, right beside the place she would be, it stuttered and sped. Recognizing it for what it was, I immediately called myself a heel for causing her fear. Frankly, it stunned me that I didn't register it before. _Of course_, at least some part of her was afraid of me. Beneath that mask of bravado and hatred, she was only human after all. A rather small one. And more importantly, one who was in the presence of the same kind of creature that had stolen something vital from her.

The snap of my pencil made me look away.

Why, I didn't know, but I didn't like that fear at all. In fact, I liked it less than the damned hatred. It made me very much aware of my predator self, and in a way that discomfited me more than reasonable. It made me feel guilt for something I'd had no part it.

To save us both, as our so-called expert professor bombarded us yet again with unimportant miscellany about the life and times of England's greatest literary hero, I refused to look at the girl for the next thirty minutes and did my damnedest to ignore any and all thoughts about her coming from the rest of the class.

Of course, I heard her, however. She was the _only_ thing I heard. Every little twitch of her hand, every angered huff of air from her mouth, every wet smack of her heart beat lassoed every bit of my attention. And if that weren't enough, I surely felt the heat that rolled like waves from across the aisle.

Dealing with this girl was going to be no small feat, I decided.

Regardless, determined as I was to right this wrong, never mind that it wasn't mine to right, fifteen minutes before class dismissed, after forty-five minutes of out and out misery and torture, I pulled a sheet of paper from my notebook and began to write.

I started with me a simple, "It wasn't me," which I then scratched out and replaced with, "I'm sorry for your loss."

That wouldn't do at all, I concluded. That was maudlin and coming from her mortal enemy, no doubt would have been perceived as insincere and an insult. Had I passed that her way, she would have attempted to stab me for real this time, which would have been exceptionally difficult to explain to the rest of the class when she didn't manage to pierce my flesh.

So for another ten minutes, I waffled, attempting to determine the best mode of attack. I finally settled on the direct approach. With a quick scribble of, "Do you know his name?" I shoved the paper across the aisle.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #16? <strong>

**Thanks for playing along! I'll try to update a couple more times this weekend. So gimme those prompts! **

**Oh! And I changed the summary now that we kind of have a direction... It's updated on my profile. Lemme know what you think :D**


	16. Curiosity

This one belongs to the best pre-reader… ever, BilliCullen, who kindly takes care of one of my other fics, _An Angry Man_. Mwah!

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #16: Curiosity<strong>

At first, the girl refused to acknowledge my olive branch of sorts. Instead, as though the slip of paper from my notebook had dirtied her tabletop, she simply crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back in her chair as far away from it as possible, and pretended to listen to the remaining minutes of our lecture.

But it was all pretense, of course.

Facing forward and feigning my own rapt attention, I watched the girl in my periphery. Her fingers curled in on each other as though she were struggling to not reach out and spin the paper around to face her, and every five seconds or so, I'd catch her eyes drift only to immediately jerk back away. The moment she gave in and looked down at the page, however, from the quick narrowing of her eyes and agitated bob of her knee, one thing was perfectly clear.

No, I didn't need to read her mind to know that at some point, if I didn't learn to choose my words more wisely, that girl really was going to stab me. I'd obviously chosen the wrong thing to say because every one of her tells – her pinched face, her rigid posture, the rapid hammer of her heart – _screamed_ at me in instant fury.

Which made _me_ furious, because I was only trying to help her, for God's sake, even against all better reasoning. To avoid doing something very stupid – like grabbing her and shaking her – I had to remind myself that she didn't know me from Adam. Or from whomever killed her father. As far as she was concerned, we were all wretched murderers.

So for the last few minutes of class, we simply sat there side by side – her, stiff and livid at my apparent insult, and me, confused, fighting off indignation, and as always around this girl, thirsty. Always thirsty. No doubt I'd wind up culling yet another herd of deer tonight.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she spat, turning to me the very second after the first bell chimed.

Startled by the sudden blast of _sound_ from her, I spun in my chair to face her and all her blinding, wrathful glory. We were fortunate that we sat in the back of the room and that the rest of the class was too preoccupied with shuffling their books to pay any attention. Otherwise, someone would have called security by the way we glared.

Crumpling my paper in her fist before throwing it back at me, she hissed, "What? You think you can just come in here and ask me whatever you want because you're _you_?"

"You don't know me!" I spat right back, accidentally slapping the desktop too hard. A long splintering crack shot up the middle. Sighing, I raked my hand through my mess of hair before lowering my voice to a whisper. "You have no idea why I'm even asking!"

"You're right, and I don't want to, _bloodsucker,_ so leave me the hell alone!" Her ponytail whipped back and forth. "You're all the same."

"Like hell, we are!"

"Whatever." Her heart was racing now, fast and hard, each beat driving into my skull. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you just go… somewhere else. Anywhere else. Or are you planning on killing me, too?"

"What?" Out of breath, I was forced to turn my head and suck in a mouthful of that decadent damnable scent. I winced and gritted my teeth as a row of knives carved up and down my esophagus.

"You heard me," she answered, ignoring whatever miserable face I'd just made. "What's your deal? Is this some game for you? Do you just like playing with your food or something? Are you some kind of sick sadist who gets off on terrorizing people before he drinks them dry?"

"_You _are _not _my food," I growled, not at all comfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. Not at all. Never mind every instinct in me roared in disagreement, but she didn't need to know that. "_No one _here," I waved haphazardly, "is food. Certainly not you."

At that, something shifted. It was brief; nonetheless I caught it. In a span of no more than a second, her brows shot up before she schooled them right back down. Picking at the hem of her sleeve, she stared a hole in her desk, pretending as though I hadn't surprised her. Some of the heat left her voice, however, turning into what I could only assume was her attempt at carefully neutral. "What are you talking about, _leech_?"

I sighed again. "Can we dispense with the leech and bloodsucker already? It's really rude."

She gave me a flat stare.

"Fine," I huffed. "Call me whatever you want, Ms. Swan. But I don't kill people, okay? And I didn't kill your father. But I'd sure like to know who did."

This time, when her brows shot up, they stayed. "Why?"

"Because if I ever see him, I'm going to kill him," came out of my mouth before I could stop it. That was _not_ how I'd envisioned disclosing my plan.

"Excuse me?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #17? <strong>


	17. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

Lisamichelle17 likes to challenge me, it seems. Okay, let's do it. Or try to... in spirit, at least ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #17: <em>Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger<em>,** by Daft Punk

_Work It Harder, Make It Better  
>Do It Faster, Makes Us Stronger<br>More Than Ever, Hour After (H)our  
>Work Is Never Over<em>

Her incredulous _"Excuse me?" _echoed far too loudly in the empty classroom, and for a second, I could only gape. At her, certainly, but more so, I gaped at myself and my complete lack of verbal filtering.

You see, never, not once in all my decades, had I been this reckless with my mouth. Granted, never had I been so entirely frustrated and discombobulated by another's presence either. But there was _something _about this hateful girl, and while I couldn't put my finger on what exactly it was, I wasn't so obtuse to believe that it merely her blood or even her quiet mind. Whatever it was – whatever she was – made me forget myself and all of my carefully constructed rules, never mind the ones dictated by the thrones in Italy. For one who prided himself on complete and utter self-control, the sensation was… _unnerving_, to say the least.

God only knew what else I'd confess if I wasn't careful.

So I said nothing.

And the girl continued glaring.

"What did you mean by that?" she asked after what felt like an hour of tense silence.

"By what?" Yes, I could play dumb when needed.

She sighed in loud exasperation and drummed her nails against the desktop – a fast ticking rhythm that _almost_ matched the wet, driving cadence of her heart. "You said you wanted to kill him." Her voice weakened toward the end.

For less than a second, I considered lying, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could convince her that she'd misheard me. But for some reason, lying to her felt… _uncomfortable_. So I didn't and rolled the dice.

"I did," I said slowly, nodding.

Her throat bobbed and her heartbeat skipped. "Why?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. I wasn't very keen on divulging my exact reasons, so I left it vague, yet true. "He deserves it."

Confused, her forehead crumpled.

"You didn't answer my question," I pressed, taking her lack of response as at least some kind of positive indication.

"What question?"

Wincing before I even opened my lungs, I took another quick sip of air and forced the flood of molten lava back down my inferno of a throat. Deer? I'd need bears after this conversation.

"Do you know his name?" I asked after I was certain I could speak without wheezing.

Those expressive brows of hers shot up for what had to have been the tenth time in this single conversation. "Are you serious?"

I nodded.

Shaking her head, she mouthed a soft, "No." For a brief moment, her anger seemed to wash away, as though she'd forgotten who, or what, was in her audience.

"Did you see him?" I asked softly.

"No, I didn't." Her fingers stopped drumming.

This time it was my forehead that folded in bafflement. "Then… then, how the hell do you even know it was… "

"A vampire that killed him?" she finished, some of the steel returning to her gaze, as her fist tightened around her backpack strap.

"I don't understand," I muttered, not following at all, having no idea what this girl even _was_. If it weren't patently ridiculous, not to mention something existing only in the realms of fiction, I'd swear that she was some kind of mystic or witch. She'd certainly conjured some kind of sorcery over me. "How could you know? How did you even know what I was?"

Her minute's worth of a non-answer made me want to throw my desk through the window. I asked again, this time louder, "How?"

Catching even _me_ off guard, there was a sudden flurry of movement as her notebook flew off her desk, raining down in a shower of white, floating pages. "Because I saw the body, okay?" she shrieked, pounding her fist against the tabletop. "I saw his skin, the way it looked like it belonged to a body one size larger, how it sagged because there wasn't any blood left to stretch it out." She glared at me with undeniable, unshakable fury. "I saw the black arm-shaped bruise across his chest where he was held by someone far stronger than a _mere_ human. I saw the fucking _bite mark_ over his jugular and the spray of blood on his face. Is that good enough, vampire? Does that make you happy?"

I swore under my breath.

"Shit is right, bloodsucker."

There was something else she wasn't saying, something that had enabled her to name me on sight, but I wasn't stupid. I knew when to retreat and now was that time. At least for now.

Avenging this girl was going to be no small task when she would likely fight me the entire way.

Then again, I argued, as anyone knew, anything worthwhile was never easy.

Regardless, she and I both flinched when her pencil splintered against the back of my hand.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #17? <strong>

**Happy Mother's Day**

Oh, and if you've never seen this… Dude.

EDIT: Ffn flubbed the link. Just go to youtube and search for, "daft punk hands original" and look for the one with 53 million hits. It's amazing.


	18. Two Steps Back

Shamatt0403 got this one!

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #18: Two Steps Back<strong>

The girl didn't show up for class on Friday.

And frankly, as much as it disturbed me to admit it, her absence bothered me far more than it should have. Far more than was reasonable. Or safe. For her or for me.

In fact, if you were to ask me, I couldn't recall a single word the professor had said that hour. Why? You see, after realizing that she wasn't there and likely wasn't coming at all, I spent the entire period frozen in place, ignoring all the other clamorous minds in the room in favor of wondering, and perhaps even lamenting, if my macho foolishness had actually driven the girl away.

For exactly sixty minutes, I obsessed over it, really, repeatedly picturing the surprised and livid o-shape of her lips when the wood shattered against my skin and she grasped just what she'd done – let loose her ire at a vampire, with a pencil of all things. Never in all my decades had I been _assaulted_ like that, and by such a frail and fragile creature. It was absurd – the physical disparity between us comical almost – but in retrospect, I found her angry kitten courage strangely, and dangerously, _endearing_. Which was why, afterward, I'd done nothing other than gape at her as she grabbed her books and scurried out the door.

If she didn't come to class on Monday, I had no idea what I'd do. Okay, that was a lie. I had an inkling, of course, and honestly that was more disturbing than being bothered by her absence to begin with.

"Edward!"

The familiar voice snapped me out of my mental meanderings, and when I looked down, in my hands, I held a mass of matted brown fur and thick hide that I didn't even recall taking down.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Jasper asked, as he sauntered through the trees, his eyes glowing pale silver in the moonlight. "You're all over the map. I can't get a bead on you right now to save my life." He leapt to the top of a tall boulder nearby and out of habit, surveyed the dark terrain. "You're kind of freaking me out over here."

I shrugged, threw the carcass to the side, and wiped the line of blood from my chin. Even my dining habits were suffering because of this girl.

"Don't lie." Casually, he stepped off the boulder and landed with a muted thump.

_It's that girl that Alice can't see, isn't it?_

Reluctantly, knowing that the jump in my emotional space would give me away anyway, I nodded.

_What's the deal? _

The idea of explaining all of this to Jasper wasn't exactly a pleasant one. Ever practical and always looking for any threat to the family – to Alice, mostly – I knew that he'd never be comfortable with this girl knowing of us in any way, shape, or form. But after Wednesday's debacle of a conversation, I didn't know what else to do. The girl wasn't going to trust me anytime soon, so if I wanted to make good on my promise – to her and to myself – I'd need to find ways to investigate her father's death _while_ attempting to prove her misconceptions wrong.

And investigating was one thing Jasper did better than anyone else I knew.

So I told him.

Well, everything except for her trying to stab me. That little bit of pleasantry was for no one but me.

"You're not serious," he growled, as he stepped toward me. His shoulders curled down into an involuntary crouch, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw flexed. I knew what was coming – exactly what I'd stupidly gambled against. "She knows? And you just let her walk away? You idiot!"

"What else could I have done?" I growled back, glaring daggers. "Killed her?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Without even thinking, my feet were in motion and my shoulder slammed into Jasper's chest, knocking him backward and into the nearest tree. The old, gnarled trunk split down the middle with a loud, resounding crack that echoed through the empty forest. My voice was louder, however, cutting loose in a furious, irrational roar. "No one's killing her, damn it!"

With a lithe roll and jump, Jasper was back on his feet. Brushing off leaves and debris, he stalked back toward me. "What are you going to do if she tells? What about… Italy? It's not allowed and they'll eventually find out. That girl is a risk to you and everyone else. I won't allow Alice's safety to be compromised in any way. You know that!"

"They won't know," I hissed, balling my fists, ready to pound him if he even suggested harming the girl. For whatever reason, the notion was intolerable, which admittedly was eight shades of messed up since the baser half of me still screamed to drink her myself. "And you won't touch her!" I heard myself snarl. "I just need your help to find the asshole that killed her dad. Are you going to help or what?"

"What's with this girl?" he abruptly asked, incredulous, but still fuming. "Why do you even care?"

"I don't know." My teeth snapped together.

As if doused with a bucket of ice water, Jasper's angry expression suddenly slipped, and his lips twitched before turning slightly upward into what I could only call some kind of amused satisfaction. Without warning, he began slinging thoughts and images at me in rapid-fire succession, bouncing back the very emotion I was throwing off.

"I do."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #19? <strong>

**Let's do this again tomorrow, y/y? **


	19. Implosion

This one belongs to Alterite.

Prettyflour, you _almost_ had me with (Like) Spinning Plates, cause I freaking love Radiohead, but that song's a wee bit harsh, non?

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #19: Implosion<strong>

_Forks, Washington. At approximately 2:30 in the afternoon on Sunday, March 13, 2005, Charles Swan, Chief of Forks Police, was found dead, the apparent victim of a wild animal attack. _

_Results are as yet inconclusive, but local wildlife expert, Harry Clearwater, indicates that the attack was likely perpetrated by a lone grizzly and the result of interrupted hibernation. Hunting parties have been dispatched from Forks, Hoquiam, and Port Angeles in search of the animal. _

_Chief Swan is survived by an only daughter, Isabella Marie Swan. _

_Services will be held on Wednesday, March 16, 2005, at Crowley Funeral Home, and will be presided over by Rev. Bob Webber. _

It had been easy enough to find the headlines once I knew what I was looking for.

So avoiding anything and everything to do with Jasper's preposterous – and _wrong_ – declarations regarding my supposed _infatuation _with this girl, over the next hour, I busied myself by clicking through dozens of reports and articles, all of which were eerily similar to the first, not to mention far too vague for my liking.

The grizzly bear was never found. No descriptions of the injuries were ever given, and no matter how many sites I checked, there were no follow-up reports after the initial announcements aired. Even more telling, when Jasper managed to sneak through the coroner's firewall, there were no pictures to be found in the files. None. Not even one.

In fact, for a man of such high standing in his community, Chief Swan's ill-fated death was, strangely, almost a non-event, suspicious in a way that set my teeth on edge.

One thing was positive, however. What I read in black and white and what the girl had described were two very, _very_ different things.

For one, bears didn't leave arm-shaped black bruises across the chest. Bears didn't leave crescent–shaped mouth marks at the neck. And they certainly didn't suck a human down until all that was left was a wrinkled, saggy husk. Instead, they were messy, angry beasts that tore their victims to shreds and ripped their throats _out_. Emmett's deadly little dance in the woods was plenty proof of that.

Bear attacks did _not_ look anything like what the girl – _Isabella,_ as I now sometimes called her in my head – had described. And she hadn't made it up. The undisguised fury and the grief in her expression had been too raw and too real to have been acting.

The corners of my mouth turned down into an involuntary scowl and my fists squeezed together.

No, what Isabella had described was pure vampire. No other predator on the planet killed like that. And of course, I knew all about that, too.

As I sat there, glaring at the now blank screen, flexing my fists and grinding my teeth, something else about these _non_-reports hammered away at my consciousness. It was some unmatched piece of a puzzle that was right there hiding in the back of my mind – something so very obvious that I was missing.

Over and over, as the clock on the wall ticked by, I replayed every interaction I'd had with this girl, albeit as few as they were.

_Bloodsucker,_ she'd called me. And _leech. _

No human knew those epithets, just like no human would have ever been able to name me on sight without having been taught the signs.

And she was from _Forks, _of all places_._ Or according to the newpapers, she'd lived there for a while at least, which was easily long enough.

Already knowing what I'd see, I tapped the mouse once more, bringing the darkened screen back to life. Hiding amongst the rows of black text, a familiar name, one I'd glanced over as I'd read through the first time, suddenly stared back at me, bold and unmistakable: _Clearwater._

It'd been awhile since we'd been here in Washington – well over half a century – but it hadn't been so long that I'd forgotten that pack of dogs that lived out at La Push.

With a harsh, growled, "Damn it!" my laptop and the table it was on flew through the front window with a shattering crash.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #20? <strong>

**Let's shoot for Wednesday to update again. **


	20. Follow

Bittenbyedward1918 got this one. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #20: Follow<strong>

Seemingly without conscious direction, I flew through the front window, heedlessly following the laptop I _accidentally_ launched in my anger. Or maybe it was in fear. Regardless, automatically, the second I put two and two together, I just _knew_ where she'd gone and why she hadn't been in class.

As I raced down the darkening streets, shooting between cars and buildings, pounding the pavement hard enough that behind me was a stretch of shoe-shaped indentations, I decided that God, if such an entity truly existed, despised me. Either that or the universe itself was conspiring against me.

I could come up with no other explanation as to why or how the girl I'd somehow, for whatever reason, sworn to avenge, who was the only person on the damned planet whose mind could thwart my talent, and who just so happened to be my _singer_ of all things – a creature I'd been convinced was nothing more than myth before actually smelling her perfect blood – would also be an ally of those godforsaken dogs.

_Werewolves_, they liked to call themselves, I recalled, as I escaped the lights and the streets, darting through the line of trees that circled the city.

Those mutts didn't know what werewolves were. Or rather, they didn't know that _that_ particular species – a far more ferocious and not to mention insane one – had died out long ago. At my species' behest, no less.

But no, the Quileutes were _not_ werewolves, despite appearances. They were more like shapeshifters that had somehow landed on freakishly large dogs or wolves as their vessels of choice. Nonetheless, like we vampires and a handful of other sub-species, they were yet another anomaly of nature.

And of course, our sworn enemies. Because at some point, according to their legends at least, one of us had slaughtered their village. Never mind that Carlisle had never found any such proof.

I vaulted over a wide fast-flowing stream, landing on the other side on a patch of soft, spongy grass. Not breaking stride, I spat in both irritation and disgust.

I wasn't a fool. After all, I had seen them in action first hand, and they'd certainly seen and _felt_ me that summer of '36.

Understand, it wasn't as though they were not a dangerous lot. If anything, the dogs were that. You see, they were fast and strong, equally matched against us, and worse, their teeth and claws held place on that very small list of weapons that could pierce our natural vampire armor.

A vampire–Quileute fight was _never_ a pleasant one.

And after so much time, I doubted that any of the old elders, the ones who'd recognize me and remember the tenuous treaty Carlisle had struck so many years ago, were still alive. No, they would be long since dead, replaced by _pups_ who'd jump to fight.

Which made me question with every leap and bound why I was heading west into territory I knew was theirs. Not _just_ heading west, I corrected, as I sped across a flat, grassy meadow. I was heading west _alone_ and as fast as my feet could fly, using every bit of my vampire strength and speed, kicking up sprays of grass, dirt, and debris.

Why?

Because some part of me I couldn't even comprehend or name – the same irrational part that made me see that girl's angry face in the Alaskan sky and everywhere else I looked – was now running this show.

It made every cell in my undead body come to life the instant I pictured those snarling beasts near _her_ and all her human fragility and it had decided that _this_ was the best course of action – to chase her down and drag her away if need be. The girl – Isabella – couldn't possibly understand the risk she was taking in being anywhere near them.

This was just getting better and better.

If it weren't a patent impossibility for my kind, I'd swear that that woman had made me lose my damned mind.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #21? <strong>

**Next update, I'll _try_ tomorrow, but if I can't work it in, it'll likely be Memorial Day (Monday). **


	21. Confrontation

Well, I suppose majority rules, non?

edward-n-bella-fr-eternity1207, cedward2417, and Dans l'ombre have this one. lisamichelle17's and Carandash86's weren't far off.

**As of 5-30-2012, **fanfiction[DOT]net deleted certain types of section breaks, some quotations, as well as some dashes with spaces around them, which I use frequently in my fics to offset phrases. As a result, you will likely stumble across some segments that will now read strangely and/or look like they are missing either a pair of commas or a pair of offsetting dashes. Please ignore these. I just don't have the time or energy to go back into every chapter I've ever written to fix.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #21: Confrontation<strong>

At the edge of _our_ side of the old treaty line -a boundary I doubted the _pups_ were even aware of- some small amount of reason reclaimed me and slowed my feet. Not stopped them, mind you, because I was clearly too far gone for that by this point. Nonetheless, it slowed me down just enough such that my other senses had time to catch up.

And enough for me to actually think with my head rather than my as of late irrational _instincts. _And okay, fine, enough for me to begin plotting just how I'd manage to pass through enemy territory unscathed so that I could retrieve the object of said irrational instincts. Never mind that the only likely way that she'd come with me was kicking and screaming.

A fine mess I was in.

Damnable girl.

As luck would have it, if there were such a thing, this particular evening was a good one for stalking and creeping through the woods. The wind just so happened to be out of the west, blowing my enemies' scents toward me and not vice versa, and already, despite the relatively early hour, the sun hung low enough in the sky that everything beneath the heavy canopy was a lush, dark green bordering on black.

As such, with cat-like precision, I shot upward into the trees and began silently making my way into the very territory I'd personally vowed to never cross, hopefully keeping both myself and my scent out of the dogs' line of detection.

Maybe a mile and a half outside the reservation, I heard them before I smelled the corresponding stench. And of course, like always, I smelled them well before I saw the lump of brown, mangy fur galloping through the trees.

Even after all this time, the mind of the Quileute pack was, objectively speaking, fascinating, as even observing through a single member, it exhibited both individual and collective thinking. At any other time or in any other situation, frankly, studying it would have presented an intriguing and novel diversion for me. As it were, however, considering my precarious and rather unsafe position, the loudness and distraction of it was an annoyance. At least in their chattiness, they gave me some much needed information.

Like just how many dogs would be ripping me apart were I caught: there were ten, by the way.

And more importantly, the location of my perhaps unwilling target of rescue: currently on the beach, sitting by a flickering driftwood fire. _Laughing._

I went utterly still, motionless in a way that only my kind could achieve, when one of the patrol dogs a pup named Colin, apparently padded beneath my tree and paused to sniff the air. Standing at what would have been head level, were I on the ground, they were bigger beasts than I remembered. And smellier, too, I added, crinkling my nose in disgust when the pungency of wet dog painted the inside of my mouth.

_Do you smell anything, Brady? _

From somewhere to the north, came the sudden image of a filleted and rotting deer carcass along with a pinched, _Nah, man, this nasty thing is all I can smell right now. _

I wish, I thought, forcing myself _not_ to spit out the offending taint.

The dog beneath my tree chuffed and swung his massive head from left to right. _Something stinks around here. Smells like freaking anti-freeze or something. Sick and sweet, I can taste it even. _He pawed at his mouth, which I found incredibly ironic as I'd have killed to have done the same.

_You're imagining things, t_he other one answered, as he began racing between the trees, hurdling over fallen logs and low-lying brush. _Let's go back. I'm starving. _

Colin snorted and rubbed against the trunk of my tree. _You gonna explain to Sam or Jake why we cut the route short? What with Bella here and all? _

Automatically, my fingers dug into soft bark as I watched the girl's -Isabella's- face flash through their minds again. This time it was a memory, however, not the present.

Through their eyes, the girl's heart-shaped face was as flawless and fine as porcelain, smooth and young a mere sixteen or seventeen. Blowing in the wind, her hair was longer, too, and beneath the cloudy sky above, it was almost as dark as the all-black dress she wore. The color of it, or lack thereof, set against the paleness of her skin struck me and made me furrow my brow.

But it was expression she wore that arrested every cell of my being. For absent was any sign of the guarded anger I'd seen. Instead, her eyes were bloodshot and red, and the hollows of them were dark and swollen.

That expression made me very, _very_ angry, so much so that I barely caught the tail end of the dogs' conversation.

The wolf in the distance called out. _What's she here for anyway? I thought Jake said she had class on Fridays? _

The one called Colin looked toward his approaching friend. _Who knows. Maybe she was homesick or something. Said she was staying at her dad's old place this weekend. _His muzzle scrunched. _I swear something around here stinks. Can't you smell it?_

_Come on man, it's safe. We haven't seen that red-headed bitch for more than a year now anyway._

Hearing something I immediately recognized as very significant, my spine abruptly straightened, and before I could stop myself, my mouth moved without my permission.

"What red-headed bitch?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #22? <strong>

FYI: I'm going to be contributing an ExB oneshot for the 2nd annual Fandom 4 The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society compilation. It'd be awesome if you'd consider donating to this worthy cause. If you're interested, please go here for more info:

fandom4lls[DOT]blogspot[DOT]com/


	22. Oops!

Thanks for your patience while I finished up Requiem (my other AU that's now complete). :)

This one belongs to: bittenbyedward1918 and Sarabella79 specifically. Several other ladies said pretty much the same in their comments, too: Rita01tx, AnjieNet, TwilightMomofTwo, and littlelizruth. Majority definitely rules this round, lol

Now, where were we… let's see.

_After a bit of research, E realized that B likely learned of his kind after the death of her father via the Quileutes. Hence all the epithets and hatred. And after her absence from Friday's lit class, much to his (irrational) discomfort, he also guessed that she was out at La Push with said Quileutes, who as Edward knew from a previous decade were shapeshifters, dangerous ones at that. As such, because B has apparently driven him mad, E found himself running toward their territory with a fetch and rescue mission in mind. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you look at it – after overhearing a pair of patrol wolves discuss a certain red-headed vamp while hidden up in a tree, E accidently betrayed his location._

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #22: Oops!<strong>

_"What red-headed bitch?"_

My query bounced through the empty forest. And… was promptly followed by an equally loud and harshly muttered curse not fit for print once I realized exactly what I'd just done.

Yes, this girl had finally, truly stolen every last bit of my wits.

There was a second of silent shock, a moment where all sound ceased and movement dragged as if in slow motion. From atop my tree, I watched two gigantic furry heads swivel toward me, each bearing a pair of glowing eyes that reflected like gold mirrors in the moonlight. Not a single word or bark passed between them, both animals registering nothing but shock.

Before I could even blink twice, though, that second passed, and everything suddenly moved in fast forward. With an ear-shattering roar and crash of massive paws, two very large, very confused, and very angry wolves charged my tree.

Luckily for me, while wolves, like dogs, could certainly jump, they couldn't climb, and I was just high enough to avoid their snapping jaws and razor claws. Unluckily for me, about the time I started to laugh at their futile efforts, they found another solution.

My entire tree – an old oak with a trunk nearly twice the girth of a telephone pole – shuddered and groaned when the dark brown one – Colin – slammed his shoulder into the base. As soon as he was out of the way, shaking whatever damage he'd sustained off, the other one followed suit. One after another, the two wolves took turns barreling into my high perch, thinking that they could shake me down like an apple. When Colin's weight hit the trunk a fourth time, a long, splintering crack split the tree through the middle, all the way from the ground up to me, and I realized that maybe their plan had some merit.

I wasn't stupid. While I could easily defeat one dog – especially an inexperienced pup such as one of these – two would be a challenge, and while I'd likely come out still breathing, I'd no doubt sustain injury.

And I _really_ wanted to keep all my limbs today.

Okay, and fine, while I wasn't keen on the dogs, and while they likely didn't know or care about the old treaty, _I_ did.

Reluctantly.

Frankly, sometimes possessing a Cullen conscious was incredibly inconvenient.

With a quick, agile leap, I darted from my branch to the next one over, and then again and again, using the vast web of branches and limbs as my unwieldy footpath. Unfortunately, my arboreal escape wasn't as fast or efficient as if I were on the ground, however, and as such, the dogs easily kept pace, leaping and snapping at my heels the whole way.

_Get that bloodsucker, Brady! I told you I smelled him! _Colin snarled. _Go left!_

I went right.

Take by surprise by my sudden, _fortuitous_ dodge, the smaller wolf skidded in the mud when he tried to cut back toward me too sharply, sending dirt, twigs, and rotting leaves flying. _Where'd he come from? How the hell did he get past us? Damn, he's fast._

_Who cares! _Colin took a running jump, missing me by mere inches. _We'll tear him limb from limb just like we did that blond one!_

I barely had time to register what he'd just said.

Brady suddenly veered off to the right, running almost parallel with me along the forest floor, almost as though he were trying to corral me. I had to give that dog some credit. Unlike Colin, who was now merely following and growling at my feet, he was calculating, thinking about where I'd go next.

I'd come back for the girl later, I decided, as I swung from one tree to the next. That was for damned sure. These beasts were far too volatile to be near her.

Just ahead, maybe a hundred yards, I caught sight of moonlight streaming down through the trees. From what I recalled from my trek here, there was a clearing there, a wide open field of tall grass. If I could just get there before them, you see, I _knew_ I could outrun them. After all, no one – or no _thing – _could match me on the ground.

I stretched my stride as far as the crisscross of branches and limbs would allow to gain whatever speed I could. The wind whipped across my face, and sharp branches snagged and tore at my clothes, but I paid them no mind. Just at the edge of the forest, as soon as my path was clear, I pushed off with my left foot with every bit of vampire strength I had.

Like a ball from a canon, I shot high and fast through the air, flying a solid fifty yards, leaving both dogs just inside the tree line and eating my proverbial (and literal) dust. Landing less than softly, my feet dented the ground in the very middle of the field. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I grinned at my would be attackers.

About the time I looked back around, readying to take off at a dead run, however, a wall of black fur blocked my path and I found myself staring into the wet, dripping maw of yet _another_ wolf.

Fine, never mind upbringing or propriety in print, I said it.

"Fuck."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #23? <strong>

Let's plan on a Wed or Thurs update, yes?


	23. Parley

You guys have been watching way too much Pirates of the Caribbean, lol. This one belongs to: CindyWindy, GottaLoveFanFiction, and That'sMzPeachesTYVM.

Random trivia: today's prompt word, **parley**, a noun that means "a conversation or discussion, specifically between enemies over the terms of a truce," comes from the French verb, **parler**, which means, "to speak," and it specifically derives from the "you speak" conjugation, **parlez**. _Parlez-vous __français?_

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #23: Parley<strong>

I supposed that one of the few good things about being a mindreader was that as I stood there, inhaling the wet, rancid stench of dog breath and probing the pack's collective mind now in earnest, at least I knew that the massive, snarling, drool-dripping creature in front of me and the two approaching from behind me were the only ones nearby. The other _seven_ were either tens of miles away or not in wolf phase at all.

Lucky me.

Now, how exactly I'd missed this beast, I wasn't sure. I could only chalk it up to having been too preoccupied with the overanxious pups that had chased me through the forest to mentally look in front of me.

A vampire with highly enhanced mental faculties, I was. Omniscient, I was not.

Motionless, crouched in a low, ready stance, for what was probably less than two seconds, although it felt more like forever, the beast before me and I stared at each other, eye to eye, predator to predator. His thoughts were no different than mine. Like any two creatures preparing to go to war, we sized each other up, each cataloguing our foe and strategically assessing the risk of engagement.

When the wolf minutely edged forward, careful to keep at least a paw's swipe of distance between us, I edged backward. And then when he shifted right, my fists curled into tight hammers and, never daring to look away, I subtly moved opposite. Ever so slowly, we began to circle each other, preparing for inevitable attack.

_Colin, Brady, flank him. Don't move in until I say. We'll take him all at once_, he barked in his head. The other two immediately obeyed, which in effect – fortunately – gave me a rather helpful multi-angle view of my situation. There was a narrow window of unguarded space just to my left.

_Let's get him, Sam! I wanna tear him apart!_ Colin growled, as he paced back and forth behind me.

_Be still! You know what they can do, _the black wolf snapped. His internal voice warbled, reverberating in a way the others' did not. In response, strangely, my view from Colin's perspective abruptly… _shimmered_, and his eager pacing instantly ceased_._

Huh. Interesting.

This one – Sam as the other two referred to him – had to be the alpha, I decided. And damn, he was a big wolf, too, that was for sure. In fact, as wide as a horse and topping my own six foot and some-odd inches, he was almost as large as Ephraim Black had been back in the 30s.

Speaking of…

_Why are his eyes yellow? _The other pup suddenly asked. Were I not trying to _not_ die, I'd have smiled. As I'd surmised from his attempt to corral me in the woods, Brady was clearly the more intelligent of the two patrols.

"I'm Edward Cullen," I said very slowly, making a point to emphasize the last name, as I extended my hands and forced my fists to open in a show of truce.

There was a brief flicker of surprise in the animal's shining eyes, echoed by a jerk of vague recollection in his thoughts.

"We have a treaty," I added. "I don't eat people – hence the yellow eyes. And we don't kill each other."

_That's a load of crap!_ Colin snarled behind me, as he raked his claws across the ground like a bull ready to charge. His teeth snapped together, fighting his alpha's order to stay put.

_Wasn't there once some kind of agreement with some freak group of vamps? _The other one asked. _Like back when Jake's grandpa was around? They just ate deer and shit. _

_Shut up, Brady. He's a vampire. Looks like a duck, stinks like a duck, he's a fucking duck. _

_But–_

_He's no different than those other two mosquitos. We kill their kind. It's what we do! _

Sam's eyes narrowed into glowing golden slits and a low, vicious growl rumbled through his barrel of a chest.

I angled my head toward Brady because I really, really didn't want to fight these dogs tonight. "He's right. We used to live here – not far from Forks. My _family_." I emphasized that word, too. "Chief Black – _Ephraim_ – signed an agreement with my coven leader, Carlisle _Cullen_."

_He's just like the others!_ Colin spat. In his mind, I saw two vampires – a lean, dangerous looking male and a red-headed female attached at his hip. Nomads and mated, I quickly concluded. They had to have been. Sporting thirsty, pitch-black eyes and muddied, torn clothing, they looked downright… feral.

These had to have been the ones who killed the girl's father.

"I'm not like them," I countered. "My _family_, we hunt animals. I'm not here to hurt anyone." I nodded and tried my best to not look menacing, which was admittedly a tough sell since, like those others, I was covered in dirt and debris from being chased through the woods. "I'd just like to… _talk_."

It took them a moment to realize that I was addressing thoughts they didn't voice aloud.

And of course, no one ever – _ever – _has taken learning about my intrusive talent very well.

The views from the wolves suddenly went hot and scarlet as Sam blasted a furious command at the two behind me.

Out of pure instinct, my feet immediately moved in reaction, and with every bit of force I had, I shot forward and shouldered into the black animal in front me, knocking him into the air and at least a dozen yards backward. He landed with a high-pitched yelp and a crash and simply from momentum, skidded another ten yards across the soft ground, rolling it up like a scroll. Wasting no time, in a move that my warlord-turn-brother-in-law, Jasper, once taught me, I dropped low and spun on my heel, fist outstretched. With a resounding crack, my fist slammed into the dog barreling toward me, launching him with a howl of pain back to the trees.

Honest to God, I aimed to just run from here, knowing that even with my speed and strength, I'd never last long against three wolves, especially since in the distance I could hear more approaching.

Note: I said I _aimed_ to just run.

Before I'd even taken two steps toward my escape route, however, the smart one struck.

A row of razor sharp claws suddenly shredded my shirt, and with a shriek that sounded like metal ripping through metal, horrific, crippling pain tore down my back, momentarily blacking my vision.

Brady and I tumbled to the ground in a fit of kicking legs and flying fur, each of us landing damaging, bone-shattering blows. We rolled at least half a dozen times before finally stopping with me face down and him crouched above me. His claws dug into my already destroyed back, holding me in place. A split second before he moved, though, I saw his intent and knew that he was going for my throat. But about the time I twisted and reached around to throw him off of me, the damnable dog forewent his initial plan, and a mouth full of teeth clamped down on my elbow.

And then he jerked.

There went that whole goal of not losing a limb today.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #24? <strong>

You ladies are awesome. At the end of ch22, I had like 3 potential directions in my head as to where we _could_ go next... Your prompts (not just the one I used) gave me a 4th one, so that's where we went. As the title of the fic suggests, I _am_ writing this purely as we go and based on your prompts. So pls to keep 'em coming! :)

By the way, what shall we call this, genre-wise? I'm not exactly certain to be honest. I think I have it as Drama/Romance. But yeah, there's some snark in here, too. So what would you categorize it as?

Next update will probably be sometime over the weekend.


	24. Rescue

Trying to stick with majority rules when I can, and there was a _definite_ majority here... meepison, That'sMzPeachesTYVM, Carandash86, and bklover08 all named this one by word. Sarabella79, CindyWindy, bittenbyedward1918, miamia80, AnjieNet, and writinginthemargins were all in the same vein.

Boy, you guys don't like it when I dismember Edward, eh? ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #24: Rescue<strong>

"You idiot!"

I winced from the volume because every square inch of my body ached, including my ear canals.

"Inside voice!" I hissed, wincing again because moving my mouth wasn't exactly pleasant either. "For God's sake, not so loud, Alice. I'm dying here."

Huffing in indignation, my _sister_ kicked my shin – lightly, but nonetheless she _kicked_ me – and I flinched away with a low curse followed by a long groan of misery. Swearing I was actually seeing stars, never mind that my eyes were closed, I curled on my side and faced the wall. To add insult to injury, she poked my ribcage. "You're already dead."

"Technicality."

For a brief second, I thought they'd leave me alone and let me slowly knit back together in peace.

But that thought was quashed almost immediately. Because, _no_, that could _never_ happen in my family.

"But really, Edward, what the hell were you thinking? You could have died for real. You almost did. That big black _thing_ had your head in his mouth!" She was very angry, but concern leaked into her voice, too, punctuated by some rather graphic images of me being literally ripped apart, limb from limb, like an oversized chew toy.

"Stop, please." I didn't need her memories. I was there after all, and frankly, seeing it all over again left me with the vampire equivalent of nausea. I could still smell that dog's drool on my face. "I made a bad decision, okay?"

"That's an understatement," Jasper mumbled from the doorway. "You're just lucky you asked me to do some digging and I happen to be pretty damn good at it. Otherwise when Alice's vision all of the sudden went black, we'd have had no idea where you were." Shaking his head, he pushed off the doorframe to come stand behind Alice, who, from the tenor of her thoughts, I could tell still wanted to throttle me. "Bad form, Edward. You should know you don't go into enemy territory without backup. Or at least a solid escape plan. You had neither."

"Thank you, General." I made a poor attempt at a salute with the one limb that wasn't in the process of reattaching itself.

He just shrugged because, well, he was one. A good one, too. In fact, he was good enough that as I'd lain there in the grass in half a dozen pieces, he sent two of those damned animals yelping back home all by himself, leaving Alice and Emmett with only one between them.

Hence why I was still breathing.

I sighed at my own stupidity. "Thanks for coming after me," I said. When Alice reached over and grabbed my hand, I squeezed back. Or tried to. "Really, thanks. I don't know what I was thinking."

"So is this about that girl again?" Emmett suddenly bellowed from the corner.

"Oh, God, quiet!" I dropped Alice's hand and buried my head underneath some old pillow that they'd found. "I hear minds, remember? Just think what you want to say."

He attempted a whisper – I had to give him that – only Emmett's version of a whisper was still louder than most people's normal volume. "But it is, right? Jazz said you're _in love_ with her – a _human_." He snickered because _everything_ was funny to Emmett.

I rolled back over with nothing even remotely resembling gracefulness, chucked the pillow across the room, and cut my brother-in-law an evil look. "_Absurd."_

Jasper shrugged again, unperturbed as always, and gave me a bland smile. "Hey, you're the one feeling it. I just put a name to it."

"You're wrong. I don't even know her." _And she hates me_, I didn't add.

"I feel bad for her about her dad." Yes, that was it. "Okay, and I don't like the idea of her alone with those godforsaken dogs. She's… fragile. They could hurt her." I mumbled that last part.

Emmett laughed again, slapping his thigh. "And she's better with you?"

"Whatever." I'd hit him later.

As the minutes wore on, venom slowly licked its way through my body. Every single place I'd been _damaged_ felt as though it were on fire in a subtle reminder of the hellfire of transformation. Bad decision was right, yet even as I hurt more than I had in more than eighty years, my mind still focused on the girl, wondering where she was exactly, if she was safe, if they'd hurt her, if they'd told her about us coming onto their land and the fight, if she really did hate me…

Damnable creature.

"Where are we?" I muttered, trying to force my mind away from all the crazy she incited.

"Forks," Alice answered. "Or just outside." She flashed me an image of my siblings carrying me off the field. Along with it, I could hear the accompanying sinking fear that she'd couched as anger before. "We couldn't move you far. You weren't exactly coherent."

Emmett grinned and asked, "Don't you recognize the old place?"

Surprise struck me – a rarity – because in the throes of healing, I _hadn't_ recognized where we were. But now that he mentioned it, as my eyes scanned the ceiling and the old pine floor, now covered in a thick layer of dust, and as I breathed in, tasting the familiar scents of the Olympic forest just outside, I smiled.

It was disturbing how my first reactionary thought had nothing to do with being inside my once home for the first time in well over half a century. Nor did it have anything to do with the fact that I'd been so close to death and oblivion that my family hadn't been able to carry me more than a few miles.

No, because apparently I was, honest to God, really and truly insane now, I only thought about how my location would make it easier to go back to fetch the girl.

Once I could walk again.

And of course, this time with backup.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #25? <strong>

So, we'll just call this a "Romantic Dramedy". How's that? No worries, we'll get to the romance part. Promise. Once I've stopped damaging the vampire. ;)


	25. Strategy

Today's episode of _Fic on the Fly_ is brought to you by the letter… _**S**_.

Hard to pick this round! There were several similar prompts given, so forgive me if I missed listing you. Miamia80, Sarabella79, AnjieNet, Lurecyka, JTFanFic, PJ Austin, and Lovemesomelove called either "Strategy" or "Plan". Wonderfullybedazzled, That'sMzPeachesTYVM, and Dans l'ombre weren't far away.

Scooterstale, darling dear, I'll get to yours soon enough ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #25: Strategy <strong>

Being the vampire that I was, having been essentially frozen for all time in my late adolescent form – both physically and in terms of personality – change for me always came slowly and not without great impetus.

Now, bearing in mind my recent debacle of a rescue attempt, one _might_ argue that being torn limb from limb by a pack of rabid, drooling dogs and being saved through no aid of my own, literally seconds before losing my head could serve as such a great impetus.

If one were to do so, frankly, one would be… _right_.

Extreme pain and near-oblivion wasn't exactly a novelty I wanted to experience again, at least not any time soon.

Consider my lesson learned.

As such, taking my warlord-turn-brother-in-law's advice, rather than rushing headlong into enemy territory again (as my dimwitted instincts for whatever reason demanded), I fought that irrational side of myself and decided to employ a bit of intelligence and planning this time around. And as any good strategist would tell you, gathering information on one's target(s) was essential.

Which was why I found myself about to scale the outside wall of a small, abandoned Cape Cod in the middle of Forks, Washington, at quarter past ten on a Saturday night.

Okay, fine, it was also why I had three other vampires strategically stationed in a loose half-mile perimeter and playing sentries and why I had two others searching for all the information they could find concerning the current canine populace of La Push.

After a quick scan of the area revealed no sign of possible intruders, with a quick, lithe leap, I shot up even with the second story window and easily caught the eaves. I was fortunate in that, as I'd expected, unlike the bottom floor, the window up here had been left unlocked. It creaked ever so slightly when I slid it open.

I made a mental note that I'd need to talk to the girl about locking her windows from now on.

After I'd gotten her away from those beasts. Obviously.

Inside the house was dark and shadowy, but my eyes had no trouble seeing. And for a long moment, I simply hung there one-handed, gazing into the small room, cataloguing and memorizing each and every piece of furniture and all the accompanying paraphernalia.

Because it was _her_ room.

Or her old one, at least.

I instantly knew it from the small bed over in the corner, still draped in various girlish shades of purple and lavender, but more so, I knew it from the entire wall of nothing but floor to ceiling shelves – bookshelves, though judging by the dust patterns, long since cleared of their inhabitants – a reminder of that day I'd stumbled upon her in the library in Seattle.

It _almost_ made me smile to know that I had at least _something_ in common with this strange human who hated me and yet who still compelled me to behave like a madman.

That almost-smile vanished faster than I could blink, however, because one other thing told me the space was – or had been – hers.

The room still… _smelled_ like her.

Without thinking, driven by the vicious, blood-thirsty predator within, I sucked in a mouthful of that stale but still oh-so-decadent air. Even outside the room, despite the house having been vacant for God only knew how long, it was stronger – more concentrated – than the library or the classroom. The pure, unadulterated scent of _her_ poured out through the open window and hit me like a wrecking ball. With only that one gulp, my throat instantly seized with a rush of fire so intense that I nearly lost my grip.

Wood snapped and crunched when my fingers dug in to prevent my fall.

Momentarily blind-sided, barely in the here and now, that baser, animal half of me clamored and roared, begging to chase her down to eat – to devour and literally consume her in the vilest and most violent of ways. Like every other time I'd allowed her perfume into my lungs, I wanted her blood like no other, so much so that despite the miles between us, I swore that I could _hear_ the wet smack of her heart – that singsong mesmerizing cadence that said she was mine to have and possess.

With what little reason I had left, I shook my head, trying my damnedest to clear it. When my gaze swung left and settled, in the mirror across the room, a monster with feral black eyes and slick white teeth glared back at me, startling me into some kind of coherency better than any physical act I could have ever come up with. Spraying venom, I cursed myself twice, once for who I was and again for not thinking, and then clamped my mouth shut, locking the fire inside my chest to smolder and hopefully die out.

Having not been repeatedly exposed to the girl's – correction: Isabella's – wretchedly delicious fragrance over these last few days had apparently demolished what little restraint I'd built. As such, I argued – fine, _rationalized_ – that thirsty animal side of me was at least understandable, if not deplorable. I _was_ a vampire.

But I could work on that.

I could control it.

I had before, I contended, and it wasn't like I ever needed to breathe anyway.

As my sanity slowly returned and as my eyes scanned the room again, stopping once they hit that small bed in the corner, I began to recognize something else, however. Something confounding and _infinitely _worse than me wanting to kill her like the natural predator that I was_._

See, there was that _other_ half of me – the as of yet unaccounted for half.

You know, the side that didn't want to eat her at all.

And _that_ was what really made me pause as I hung outside her bedroom. Because unlike the handful of minutes when I'd been in the girl's presence in class, I realized that that _other_ – maybe new, maybe not… maybe _truly_ insane – side of me just wanted climb through the window and bury my face in her pillow and wallow in that blasted scent all night, esophageal inferno be damned.

It was a disturbing sensation to say the least.

I blamed that asshole Jasper and his nonsensical lies.

Speaking of…

_Edward! _Jasper abruptly called out, interrupting my crazy-vampire introspection. _There's a mutt on a motorcycle just outside town coming your way! Looks like he has some brown-headed girl on the back. _

I froze when I saw the associated image, and there was another loud snap of wood beneath my fingers in response.

Not _some_ brown-headed girl, I thought.

_Get the hell out of there right now! _he yelled in my head.

I didn't, of course.

Instead, with a quick swing, I vaulted inside the room.

Because… well, maybe being dismembered wasn't such a great impetus after all…

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #26?<strong>

We'll do this again in a couple of days :)


	26. Dickhead

You guys give awesome prompts… and tbh I was fairly tempted to go with "eavesdrop"…

But I couldn't resist, lol… Scooterstale, you got this one, cause that's how we roll.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #26: Dickhead <strong>

The angry shrieks of my siblings in my head were _almost_ as loud as the rumble of the mutt's godforsaken motorcycle. In fact, between Alice's lunatic-style ranting and Jasper barking commands as though I were some kind of wayward foot soldier in training, it took all of my century's worth of practice to tune them out.

See, I had more pressing matters to attend to.

Contrary to recent events, I was fairly certain that I could handle one dog, especially with my family around as back up. Yet I sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

First and foremost, the idea of the mutt phasing – which he _would_ do if he found me – anywhere near my Isabella was intolerable. But two, beyond the risk of him exploding into a furry ball of teeth and fury, considering the manner in which she lost her father, I just didn't think she would take well to seeing two supernatural beings play a round of immortal combat on her doorstep.

Okay, fine, and thirdly, if I were being honest, I still hadn't come up with a rational explanation for my presence here in Forks, at least not one that I thought she might believe. And I _really_ didn't want to fight with her. Her, less so than the dog.

As such, stealth and circumspection was the name of this game.

As I looked around the small girlish space, however, I quickly decided that a) hiding in the closet wouldn't do me a bit of good, b) same for under the bed, and ultimately, c) I couldn't really _hide_ anywhere. Because in reality, if the dog came inside the house at all, it just wouldn't matter. Even in his human form, with his heightened senses, there was no way that the damnable mutt wouldn't smell me.

In truth, when I really stepped back and evaluated the situation, I was admittedly in a bit of a predicament – _again_ – and at this point, the only thing I could really do was cross my fingers and hope that the beast would stay out in the front yard on the complete other side of my entry point and where the wind just happened to be in my favor tonight.

In other words, I just hoped that he'd stay outside where he belonged.

Every muscle in my body tensed when tires crunched across the gravel drive. And when the engine puttered out and died, my fingers automatically curled into tight fists.

Because absent the infernal racket of his bike, his mind was far, far too easy for me to find.

Namely, because in it, was a much clearer-than-average view of the object and motivation for all my recent blunders.

I supposed those heightened wolf senses were good for something after all.

"Bella, come on," he snapped, as she clambered off the bike and began stalking toward the house.

"No," Isabella snapped right back as she stepped up onto the front porch, not even bothering to turn to speak. The taut set of her shoulders told me she was seconds from boiling over.

"It's stupid for you to be here," he growled. My fists twitched at his tone and then again when, through his eyes, I watched her halt and her spine straighten.

"Jake, I'm staying here tonight," she yelled, abruptly spinning on her heel. Her mouth drew into the same hard line I knew oh-so-well. "It's not up for discussion!"

That was my girl.

"Don't be so hard-headed!" The one she called Jake closed the gap between them, stopping just in front of the porch, less than a foot away from her. "Just come back to the Rez and stay with me."

My hand was already on the door knob when he put his meaty paws on her biceps. Honestly, I nearly tore the door off the hinges, stopping myself only because she glared daggers at him and shrugged him off. "No, thanks," she said. "I've had quite enough of you and all the pack's nonsense for today."

"It's not safe for you here alone." He crossed his arms in defiance and attempted to tower over her.

Jerk.

Isabella rolled her dark eyes up to the sky. "God, save me from heroes!"

In his mind, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a mustached man lying on the forest floor, broken and bloody, followed by a flashing image of another creature, the same blond vampire I'd seen in the collective mind of the pack, being torn limb from limb before being tossed into a raging bonfire. I could smell him burning, acrid yet at the same time sticky sweet.

"I'm serious!" Jake argued. "It's not safe for you out here. We can't protect you!"

"What are you talking about?" Her hands were on her hips in challenge and almost too sweetly, she said, "You killed those two, remember?"

Instantly, the blond's mate appeared in Jake's thoughts, replacing the images of her dead father and his attacker. Only she wasn't mangled and burning at all. No, she was streaking through the nighttime forest at lightning speed, racing far and away from all the carnage. Two hulking brown and black wolves bounded behind her, but she was faster.

Nice to know I was looking for the red-head now, not the blond.

"Yeah, of course we did," he lied. "But still, just come back with me." His voice was almost cajoling now. "I don't get to see you much anymore anyway."

_Huh. _

Interesting that beyond lying about the red-head's non-oblivion status, he didn't bother mentioning… _me_ either.

Or the little ruckus my family had caused when they swooped in to save me.

I quickly grasped that apparently, he and the rest of the pack had already decided to keep her in the dark about all of this, never mind that were the red-head to return, Isabella would be the one most at risk.

Controlling asshole.

No, controlling _idiot_ asshole.

"No, I'm staying here," Isabella huffed, narrowing her eyes. "It's my damned house. Plus, I'm taking Dad's old truck and leaving first thing in the morning anyway."

"What?" he barked, moving in closer.

"I told you, I'm going back to school," she shouted, still fisting her hips. How he missed just how irate she was I didn't know. She was spitting enough venom to make me question whether she was human at all.

Understand, on one hand, it was rather gratifying knowing that it wasn't just me who garnered her particular brand of… _affection_.

On the other, as I hid away and listened to their argument, I decided that at this instant in time, I would have truly given every single thing I owned to hear her mind. Just once. Because while I appreciated her anger at the mutt, something wasn't quite adding up – specifically, just what he'd done to make her _this_ furious. This was beyond some disagreement over whose roof she was sleeping under.

"Bella –"

"No, you listen to me! You don't control my life. I'm so sick and tired of all you people thinking that you do." My brows shot up and I made a quick mental note – _mistake to not make_.

"So unless you have a really fucking good reason that you want to share concerning why I can't stay in _my_ house by myself and why I can't go get a degree that my dead father's insurance is paying for, then go home, Jake."

"But–"

"And if you _ever_ try to kiss me again, I won't just punch you. I'll stab you."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #27? <strong>


	27. Jealousy

Majority rules this round. Bittenbyedward1918, Lurecyka, wonderfullybedazzled, miamia80, TwilightMomofTwo, and writinginthemargins all picked this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #27: Jealousy<strong>

I was going to kill him.

As I stood there hiding in her bedroom, sucking down mouthful after mouthful of the girl's blasted, burning fragrance, and stared into that boy's head, seeing him put his filthy mouth on her angry, protesting one, I knew, beyond all doubt, that I was going to rip that godforsaken mutt into tiny pieces and spit on whatever was left when I was done.

And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

I blinked, and when my eyes opened, the dark room went blood red, and for a moment, I was frozen by the rush of an emotion so strong and so powerful that my brain – vampire or not – couldn't fully comprehend it. The kind of rage that swept through me had no name. Only that it was white-hot and vast.

I'd never experienced anything like it in my entire undead existence. And the suddenness of it – of this new, terrible emotion – made me stupid, so much so that I couldn't seem to make my body behave my brain's livid orders to _kill-kill-kill!_

So far gone, so lost and drowning in this new unexplainable, unbridled fury, I barely heard my Isabella when she snapped again, "Just go home, Jake! I'll call you later or something." Between her real voice and the echo of it in the boy's mind, it sounded like she was in a barrel.

And damn it, my legs still weren't moving!

With a curse and a last look to Isabella's annoyed face, the boy's bike sputtered to life and then fishtailed out of the driveway, spraying a fan of rocks and debris. There was a second of absolute silence before the front door's hinges screeched from disuse. The door banged closed and then there was the resounding clink and click of an old chain lock.

Which meant that only the two of us were here in the house – that we were now _alone_.

It was_ that_ particular realization that jolted me into a new kind of awareness, one that filtered through the blinding rage and allowed me to reclaim my non-insane self.

I panicked, not trusting myself to be alone with her right now – not when I was this wound up, not when my fists were still balled into tight hammers, and definitely not when every muscle in my body still ached to chase that bike down and destroy its rider.

But from the downstairs living room, there was a sudden tired, feminine sigh that sounded so wrong coming out of the fiery girl I knew, and the sadness of it somehow made my fists unball. And then the heavy dragging of her feet as she moved toward the stairs, as though she didn't have the strength to hold herself upright anymore, well, that _did_ something to me. My muscles instantly uncoiled, my breathing slowed, and somehow, and don't ask me how, the roaring fire in my throat died to a low smolder – something almost bearable. Strangely, if I didn't know that it was a patent impossibility, it was almost as though my body tuned itself to hers, as though her exhaustion copied itself in me.

As she began climbing the stairs, my limbs finally obeyed my brain and quickly took me left and into her closet, where I hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't look. Just outside the room, she stopped, and I could hear the soft pads of her fingers slowly drifting across glass – maybe over a picture on the wall – and then she whispered a quiet, "Daddy, I miss you so much."

When her bedroom door swung wide, still reeling from the vulnerability I'd just witnessed, I went statue-still, wincing in dread as the light from the hall streamed in, creeping ever closer to my dark closet. Not even bothering with a lamp, she shut the door and crossed the room, ignoring my side of the room altogether.

Not once during all this did I breathe. Not once did I move. Not once did I risk exposure. No, for exactly twenty-nine minutes and forty-two seconds, I did nothing other than catalogue and memorize every single move and sound she made.

Her tennis shoes thudding and rolling across the wood floor.

The creak of the springs when she sat down on her small, girlish bed.

A second sad sigh, followed by her rubbing her face.

The rustle of fabric as she crawled under the old comforter.

And after a forever of tossing and turning and a half of a dozen more sad sighs, the soft, easy cadence that said she'd finally drifted off to sleep.

I waited another ten minutes before I emerged from my hiding place, and in all honestly, I truly aimed to take my leave. With that red-headed witch in mind, of course, I wouldn't have gone far from her. I told myself that I'd expended too much effort to leave her now. Maybe just outside where I could keep watch, I argued. Or maybe the roof. Or maybe to the tree outside the window where I could keep watch _and_ see her.

But as I crept across the room, targeting the window from whence I came, I made the mistake of looking at her.

That did something to me, too.

Something very, very permanent.

The kind of permanent that only happened once in a vampire's existence.

See, bathed in a stream of pale moonlight shining through window, lying there on that small lavender bed, my Isabella was something of the likes I'd never seen. When I'd encountered her in the library and then later in class, certainly, I'd recognized that she was a pretty girl, especially in that rare moment when her guard had dropped and I'd seen the softness she tried so hard to hide.

Clearly, I'd been blind. How I hadn't seen it, I had no clue.

Because Isabella wasn't _pretty_. No, she was much more than that. She was interesting and lovely and beautiful – captivating in every way. Absent the anger and show, her heart-shaped face was as smooth as porcelain, and instead of the scowl that seemed to bear my name, her lips had settled into a gentle pout that made me want to reach out and trace their softness.

Everything about her drew me in, tying my being to this room and to her.

She called to me on some cosmic level that I couldn't begin to understand but had no hope of ever denying again.

So, of course, I did what any love-stricken vampire would do.

I stayed, all the while telling myself that it was perfectly normal for me to sit in a rocking chair in a dark corner of the object of my perhaps-obsession's room as she slept away the remainder of the night.

Oh, I was still furious with that mutt, don't mistake me. I would have his head and I would see him destroyed, just like that red-head had no chance once I eventually found her. But for now, I just… sat there. With her. And I watched my Isabella sleep, listening to the slow rhythmic thump of her heart and the whisper of her breath, trying to figure out how I'd ever make her love me back.

"I won't like you," she mumbled, dreaming, as she turned over on her side. If she opened her eyes, there was no way she wouldn't see me, yet I couldn't seem to will myself to move. I just smiled at her sleepy petulance. Almost as if she somehow detected me in her sleep, her brow folded into an expression I knew so well, and she huffed, a sound that I dared to term as _adorable_, before mumbling again. "Stupid, hot vampire."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #28? <strong>

**See you ladies in a couple of days :)  
><strong>


	28. Woo

Okay, so fanfiction has apparently made some changes to the review box. I can't tell who left this prompt (other than this mysterious "guest" label ffn seems to now enjoy assigning), but we'll go with it because it's a fun word to say.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #28: Woo<strong>

"Just wait a minute!" I whisper-shouted, stalking out the back door and down the steps, hoping to find at least some modicum of privacy. Of course, living in a house full of vampires with all their vampire hearing made that impossible, but still, it seemed prudent to try. Frankly, after having just arrived back in Seattle after what had to have been the slowest _jog_ of my entire existence, I didn't feel like having the necessary conversations with Carlisle quite yet. Or worse, with Esme and all of her sweet, yet misplaced romantic inclinations. It was bad enough that my _siblings_ knew. Rosalie was having a field day.

As an aside, during the above mentioned glacially paced jog, wherein I'd carefully kept my distance and kept myself hidden inside the tree line while still following my Isabella back into the city, I'd come to the conclusion that if I didn't somehow intervene, that old truck of hers was going to accomplish the truly impossible. Because, you see, if I _ever_ had to witness her attempt driving that sputtering, lurching, rusted out jalopy three and a half hours around tight, windy roads again, I swore that my dead, petrified heart would come back to life just so that it could promptly fail.

In point of fact, when Isabella had opted to pass that somehow slower-driving – and don't ask me how it could have been slower since I doubted she made it over fifty-five the entire way – logging truck at the midway point and had almost run head on into another one, it'd taken every bit of my self-control to not reveal myself, rip off the roof of the cab, grab her, and just run her back.

Regardless _something_ would have to be done. For my own sanity. I couldn't take another trip like that.

So, in addition to finding and destroying the red-headed murderer of her father, protecting her from said murderer in the interim, keeping her away from those godforsaken drooling dogs, and actually getting to know her a little so that hopefully she wouldn't hate me so much, I was also going to need to convince my love to let me buy her a new car, preferably one with armor plating and every airbag known to man.

Indeed, I had a rather full plate.

And for once, I decided that it was fortuitous that my kind never slept. I was going to need those hours.

My _sister _sighed through the line and brought me back to the present.

"Okay, now tell me," I said, as I began quickly pacing the perimeter of the lawn, careful to dodge Esme's overflowing planters, of course. "What did you do?"

Alice sighed again, and I nearly threw my phone in aggravation. Taking a slow, deep breath of pine-laced air, I stopped at the far left corner, where through the trees, the Seattle skyline loomed, jagged and gray. "Alice? Tell me what you've done."

"Fine," she huffed. "I bought an apartment."

I stilled and in the process, snapped a thick, overhanging branch that I'd not even realized that I'd grabbed. "You did what?" I asked, not bothering to even try to hide my incredulity.

Alice laughed, high and tinkling. "Don't be so obtuse."

Understand, occasionally living apart wasn't that much of an oddity for our family. Through the various decades and cities, we all – Alice and Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett, even _I_ – had temporarily moved out of the family home at some point in time. Never far, usually in the same town, but just enough for a little peace and space.

But this was not that. I didn't need to be able to hear her mind to know that Alice's newest acquisition had absolutely nothing to do with a sudden desire for privacy.

Raking my fingers through my wind-mangled hair, I closed my eyes, preparing for only God knew what. "Why would you do that?"

Still laughing, my sister clucked her tongue at me as though I were some kind of simpleton. "Because frankly, _dearest brother_, whether you like it or not, you need help."

Another branch snapped, this one big enough and loud enough that it echoed like a gunshot through the entire neighborhood. "I do not."

"Yes, trust me, you do. This isn't exactly up your alley."

"What's not up my alley?" Yes, I was playing dumb. Unfortunately, Alice knew it, too.

She snorted indelicately. "Fine. Let me just be blunt here. You don't know shit about women. And you certainly don't know how to… to use an expression you might be familiar with… _court_ one."

I made a point to move away from the foliage lest I destroy it all. "Excuse me?" I halfway yelled, holding the phone out so that I could glare at it as a matter of principle. "_Mind reader_ here. In case you've forgotten."

"Whatever," she muttered, and I swore that I could see her rolling her eyes the way she always did when she thought I was being an idiot. "Look, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but women these days aren't keen on stalkers. It's just not something that they find romantic. It's… just not. Trust me."

"What are you implying?" I asked, indignant, because I was _not_ a stalker. I simply was… concerned for Isabella's safety. And yes, fine, I was completely mesmerized by her. I could admit that now, at least to myself. We vampires did that kind of thing when we found our… _someone important_.

"I said she was _fuzzy_, Edward, not that I couldn't see her at all." Alice paused, and in the background I heard half a dozen voices, all college aged, which told me she was somewhere near campus. A second passed before she quietly added, "And I can _definitely_ see you. You were totally being a creeper, at least by human standards."

"I was not!" I growled. "I love her."

I had just enough time to curse and mentally berate myself for that little outburst before Alice went on as though I hadn't just blurted a first in my endless, miserable existence. "You're point? I bet if you asked her, she'd call you a freak."

_Ugh._ Because there was no way in hell I would ask Isabella anything of the sort. She'd call me something far worse.

"Think of it like this," Alice said, lighter, purposefully cheerful and taking on what I liked to call her saleswoman tone. By the way, no good had _ever_ come of it.

"Now, with me being close to her, you'll have a real excuse to be near her apartment. You can easily protect her. And while you're at it, who knows, maybe you'll run into each other outside of class and you can actually get to know her a little. _Naturally._ Like normal people do." The saleswoman tone dropped and gave way to something that I could only describe as _scandalized_. "_Not_ when you're climbing through her bedroom window and hiding in her closet!" There were choppy, garbled sounds of Alice muffling the phone with her hand, but I could still hear her whisper to whom I _hoped_ was Jasper. _"I still can't believe he did that! And you didn't stop him!" _

I lifted my face to the sky and sighed. "I can hear you."

"Whatever," she muttered again. Before I could point out my _sister's_ overuse of the annoying and clichéd line, she rattled off an address and issued orders as to what time I was to arrive with the first of her boxes.

Knowing that at this point, there was no hope of changing Alice's mind, and okay, perhaps admittedly with somewhat piqued interest now that I considered her proposal and the possibilities it afforded, I asked, "So… just how close is your new place to hers?"

Alice chuckled, and I immediately groaned. "Alice? How close?"

"Across the hall."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #29? <strong>

**I'll try to do this again sometime Fri or Sat. :)**


	29. Gambit

Bmango owns this one.

Gambit (noun): 1. _Chess._ an opening in which a player seeks to obtain some advantage by sacrificing a pawn or piece. 2. any maneuver by which one seeks to gain advantage. 3. a remark made to open or redirect a conversation.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #29: Gambit<strong>

It was strange how time seemed to halt when she _finally _noticed my presence. The hallway – the span between _her_ and where I stood – suddenly turned into a vacuum, and the lit outline of her door and everything behind it came into knife-like focus, somehow sharper and crisper than ever before. Everything else – the noises pouring through the other apartments' walls, the crowd of voices in my head, the vast multitude of both human and vampire scents, even the flutter of silvery dust motes spiraling through the air – vanished. Every thread of my attention was held captive.

The soft bounce of her bare feet on the carpet forced my head to the left, and without sparing a glance back, I tossed the box I'd been holding to Jasper.

The aggravated huff from behind the door straightened my spine and tightened my shoulders.

The metallic rattle of the chain lock set my fingers twitching.

And with the turn of the doorknob, I involuntarily swallowed, and my insides began to… _squirm_. There was no other word for it, and which was, by the way, an alarmingly disconcerting sensation that I'd never imagined was even possible considering vampire physiology. But it was. Trust me. For a split second, I actually wondered if the deer I'd drained early this morning was going to come back up.

"Mike, what are you _doing_ out here!" she yelled, as the door swung wide.

_Mike? _

What the…

Well, that broke the spell.

"God, it's about time," Jasper mumbled from somewhere inside Alice's new living room.

Digressing for a moment, I had to agree with my brother-in-law there because I wasn't sure that I'd _ever_ spent so much time and effort trying to gain someone's attention – _naturally_, as Alice had suggested (read: commanded). You see, the purposefully loud talking hadn't worked at all. Nor had the uncharacteristic stomping up and down the stairs. Nor had the _three_ unnecessarily dropped boxes, the latter of which was now filled with a million pieces of broken china and would likely result in Alice flaying my hide.

So _perhaps_ in my impatience, I'd opted for an _accidental_ elbow through the drywall, which had been loud enough to wake the dead, or in this case the nearly deaf love of my existence.

"Who's Mike?" came tumbling out my mouth before I could stop it.

Like she'd just been electrocuted, hand still clutching the doorknob, Isabella's jaw dropped and her eyes shot wide, and for a second of absolute silence, the only emotion evident on her face was sheer shock.

Note: I said a _second_ of absolute silence.

Because immediately after said second of silence, those dark, wide eyes narrowed, her fists curled into tiny balls of fury, and an unholy shriek came out of her mouth. "You!"

I took a step back. "I–"

"Go away!"

Before I could say another word, she spun on her heel, flying back in her apartment in a flurry of streaking hair and bright red anger, and every wall on the hall shook from the force of her door slamming.

A soft chuckle came from inside Alice's apartment. "Well, I'd say that went very well."

"Shut up, Jasper."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #30? <strong>

**Maybe tomorrow, likely Monday.  
><strong>


	30. Try, try again

Bow to your sensei and miamia80 named it. Several others weren't too far off.

Less of the funny this go round because even Edward knows when it's time to be a little more serious and cut the sarcasm.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #30: Try, try again<strong>

With the final echo of her door slamming, that squirming in my gut turned into an outright chaotic churn, and ignoring Jasper's smug amusement and sniggering, my feet moved of their own volition, carrying me straight to her door. Tired – though it were not physically possible – I sighed in defeat, lifting my palms to flatten them against the frame, and having no idea what to do or say, my forehead tilted and rested against the hollow metal.

The two-inch barrier between us was nothing, of course – fragile, breakable with but a flick of my wrist – and I knew that she knew it, too. Yet still, she had run from me and taken refuge behind whatever small defense it afforded.

Just on the other side, I could hear her panting breath. Loud and ragged, it matched the jackrabbit pace of her pounding heart. Her heart was absolutely flying, pushing that mouth-watering blood through her veins at a high-pitched whine that, to me, sounded like a choir of singing violins. When I inhaled, the sweet smack of adrenaline soaked the air, mingling with her blood's perfume, and the combined effect instantly stoked the ever-present fire in the back of my throat.

Furious and disgusted that my miserable body reacted in any such way, I closed my eyes and forced myself to take another gulp of that mind-bending fragrance, then another, and another, each time gladly swallowing back a lake of venom and what felt like shards of broken glass as punishment. But I didn't move. I couldn't, not when, on the fifth chestful of air, I also tasted the faint, bitter trace of salt. Not when her lungs still wheezed. Not when her heart still raced. And not when I heard a thump and the rustle of fabric sliding down the other side of the door.

I'd been wrong.

She wasn't angry – at least not right now, when we were away from the relative safety of the school and the library and when I'd appeared outside of her _home_.

Beneath all of that furious bravado and show, instead, right now, my Isabella was terrified.

Of me.

And that sudden knowledge ripped through me and left _me_ gasping.

_Why shouldn't she be?_ I reasoned, slowly sliding my fingertips up and down the frame of the door, staring at the microscopic cracks and fissures in the gunmetal gray paint. _Why should she believe me to be any different from her father's murderer? Because I'd told her? _

Understand, now, after that midnight revelation in her childhood bedroom, things were a bit… _different_ for me. Certainly, the high predator in me still responded to the scent of prey – perfect prey – but at the same time, the mere thought of violence against her person was… excruciating, on every level, enough to make me nearly double over.

But, of course, _she_ didn't know that.

Isabella didn't know that I'd spent every second of every day since I'd met her thinking only of her.

She didn't know that I'd followed her when she'd fled to La Push, just like she didn't know that I'd been torn apart, limb from limb, trying to save her from those damnable beasts.

She didn't know that, though idiotic in my conversational execution, I'd meant it when I'd said that I would destroy the vampires that had destroyed her life.

And she definitely didn't know that all of the fundamental parts of me had been realigned and cast in stone, all of which were now tuned directly to her.

I lifted my head toward the ceiling and shook it at my own ignorance and folly.

Where I'd been changed and forever altered, she hadn't, because she'd spent but a handful of hours in my presence, and we'd spoken mere minutes. And my species had only taken from her.

So no, she had no reason at all to think me any different from all the other monsters in her life.

Softly, barely above a whisper, I said, "Isabella?"

Her breathing stuttered, but, though quiet, her voice came out firmer than I'd anticipated. "I told you to go away. Leave me alone."

"Please? Can I talk to you?" I implored, as I mutely damned the silence of her mind. Of all times and places and people, _hers_ and _now_ was when I needed my gift the most. "Just for a minute."

I assumed she'd just tell me to go again, so I was surprised when there was a muffled thump against the door. When she spoke again, the pitch and echo of her voice changed, telling me that while still separated, we now stood face to face. "If you're really here to kill me," she swallowed, "then just do it." Isabella sounded… _exhausted_, vulnerable in the same way I'd witnessed when she'd spoken to the picture of her father that night in the hall, like she'd been running a race too long but didn't know how to stop.

"I'm not here to kill you, I swear it," I replied, wincing. "I'd never hurt you."

"Then what do you want?" The bite of exasperation was back, just a little, and it made my lips turn up.

"To talk to you." To see you. To know you. To kill things for you. I didn't say that part.

"_Why?_" she sighed.

"I just…" I paused, willing her to hear what I couldn't seem to articulate. "I need to talk to you."

She made a frustrated noise that sounded like the blend of a whisper, a scream, and a growl. "You can't come in here."

"That's okay," I rushed, because that wasn't exactly a no. "We can talk like this, through the door, if you'd prefer."

There was a long, silent moment, punctuated by the thunder of her heart, before the lock slowly clicked and the door cracked open, held in check by the still-latched chain. Half of a beautiful face peeked through the crack. "What do you want, _leech_?" The heat that normally came with that epithet wasn't there.

So I smiled at her. "I go by Edward."

In the second of her responding hesitation, I caught a faint pause, followed by a rapid double-thump of her heart – a reaction that I could only assume was yet another manifestation fear. I smiled wider, doing my damnedest to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she suddenly asked.

_Because I'm wretchedly in love with you. And because I hate that you hate me. _

I didn't say that either. I'd didn't think she'd like hearing anything about that. Instead I shrugged and forced myself to look away and down the hall.

"Never mind then," she said, drawing my focus back to her. "So what do you need to tell me?"

Staring into the fathomless depth of her eyes, I frowned and debated, all the while my insides resumed their frenzied churn. After a short forever of indecision, against all my instincts, not to mention every bit of the engrained protective behavior I'd retained from my human era, I ultimately decided that unlike her dogs, honesty was the best policy. The only policy really, because the truth was the only way I could ever convince her trust me at all.

Alice and her ideas on _courting_ be damned.

"They lied to you."

Her forehead folded in confusion. "What? Who?"

This was not the best of conversations to be having in an open hallway. But I'd said that I would if she wanted, so I quietly answered, "They lied to you about the other vampire. About the woman."

Isabella stilled, and I watched her throat silently bob.

"Your dogs didn't kill her like they told you, " I went on. "I don't know why they lied, but she's still alive."

Isabella's hand slid down the door and fell limply to her side. "I knew it," she whispered, distant, closing her eyes. "I just _knew_ it."

"I'll find her," I promised. "I won't let her anywhere near you."

Her lips parted as though to speak – to ask me why or to tell me where I could go, I wasn't sure – but before a single syllable came out, her knees buckled and she crumpled, falling toward the floor.

But there was no way that I'd allow that to happen either.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #31? <strong>


	31. Breaking and Entering

Thank you for your patience while I finished up _An Angry Man_ and took a bit of a breather. Whew! Feels good to have that one complete! :D

This one belongs to kirifox. A few others were along the same lines.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #31: Breaking and Entering<strong>

_Should_ was an annoying word.

Knowing that I had no business whatsoever inside her home, especially after having told her that I'd remain outside, I _should_ have gently placed my Isabella on her couch and then made my way to the nearest Home Depot to purchase a replacement lock for the one I'd literally blown apart in my efforts to reach her when I'd seen her faint. And after having replaced said lock and repairing the damage to her metal door (at least it wasn't wood; metal could always be bent back), I _should_ have written her a note to apologize for invading her privacy and her person before then removing myself entirely from her presence until she was conscious again and willing to see me.

Or something like that. At least that's what Alice's incessant silent chatter from across the hall suggested.

Of course, as I'm sure you can guess by now, I did none of that, because, in all honesty, the words _should_ and _I_ didn't belong in the same sentence when it came to the love of my existence.

You see, regardless of what my diminutive _sister_ said, that just wasn't how vampires operated, especially not those of us who had been born into my particular era of human history, a time when chivalry was not quite yet dead and when, right or wrong, men had still been raised to protect the women they loved from danger, and _especially_ not one of us who'd just found his mate.

Yes, _mate_.

(Which is like a spouse, only better, more meaningful, and for forever. Unlike humans, we vampires don't really _do_ adultery.)

Never mind that in my particular case, the whole relationship thing was all one-sided and that, considering what I was up against when it came to Isabella, I'd likely spend eternity alone, irrevocably in love, and mated to someone who despised me.

Regardless, leaving her while still passed out and even more vulnerable than usual was just not an option for me. As such, with my back plastered to the far wall, maintaining as much distance as I could manage out of respect, instead of doing what I _should_ have done, I watched her. Or preferably, I watched over her. And I protected her.

Okay, fine, and maybe I plotted some, too.

Namely, as I stared at the soft stillness of her pale, beautiful face, now absent the lines of stress and fear and anger, I plotted how I'd ever convince her to at least give me a chance and how I'd ever be able to prove to her that I was nothing like the ones who'd killed her father.

About the time I'd started the hundredth iteration of what I'd say once she awoke, Isabella's pulse abruptly ticked up in time and her chest lifted as she inhaled a deeper breath. Like everything else about her, the sound of it drew every bit of my focus, blanking my mind of the words I'd intended on saying. Frozen in place, utterly mesmerized by her simply _being_, when her eyes fluttered open, I couldn't stop my lips from curling upward.

Brown irises, now lightened to a startling shade of burnt copper by the sun shining through the window, found me immediately. There was a sharp punch of air before they then widened, and even through I couldn't read her mind, I somehow knew that as my Isabella stared at me from across the room, she remembered and was processing everything that had occurred.

I didn't move an inch, terrified of frightening her again.

After two heartbeats of silence, Isabella's expression inexplicably shifted into one I didn't recognize, however. Still wide-eyed, but not really what I'd call fearful or angry or anything else I'd predicted, the only description I could come up with was that she looked… _contemplative_. It was almost as though I was some kind of puzzle she couldn't decipher.

While she'd not woken up screaming, I wasn't an idiot. It was only a matter of time, so my palms flattened against the wall behind me as I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught of fury.

"You didn't leave," she said after a moment, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft and a little raspy, thickened from sleep.

And not at all what I'd expected.

Confused, not quite confident of my tongue, I shook my head.

Still not yelling, but clearly not trusting me either, her eyes never left mine as she slowly sat up and swung her legs around. My fingers twitched with the urge to assist her.

"Why didn't you?"

Again, not the direction I'd anticipated, so I shrugged.

One perfect brow arched at my non-answer. "What, you can't speak now?" As she spoke, something flitted across her face, and I swore that I'd detected… sarcasm?

Really?

This woman was wholly, completely, and utterly baffling.

"I can," I answered, slowly, using my most gentle voice – the one that for whatever reason, always seemed to make women smile. I hoped that it'd have at least some effect on her, too. But then again, she was nothing like most women, so my hope was merely that.

When I smiled the same careful smile I'd attempted earlier from the other side of the door, just like before her heart double thumped. But then as quickly as that second passed, her gaze drifted to the floor where a few pieces of the lock remained, and her lips pursed. "You caught me, didn't you?"

I swallowed around an imaginary lump in my throat, suddenly remembering the overwhelming, all-consuming sensations of having her body against mine. The heavenly warmth that had invaded every part of me the moment I'd touched her. The soft hidden curves – the suppleness that was so different from my own granite form. The cascade of sweet breath against my neck as I'd laid her down on the couch by the window. The sense of rightness – of _fit_.

And then the longing that'd nearly killed me the moment I'd let her go.

Over the last hour, see, I'd been trying very hard to _not_ think about all of that. Understand, the prospect of living through eternity alone and in love was one thing. Purposefully reliving that second when I'd held everything I wanted but couldn't have was a different level of torture altogether. I wasn't that much of a masochist.

"I did," I finally said, forcing my lips to not turn down into a grimace. "I didn't mean to break your door. I just reacted. It was… instinct." That part was one hundred percent true because my instincts were _all_ about her now.

"To catch me?" The question was quietly spoken, and oddly, she looked down and picked at a stray thread unraveling from the couch cushion.

Conversation-wise, as much as it pained me to admit, I really and truly was in over my head. Without the mental context, I didn't understand where she was going with all of this, or why, or what drove her to look away. And in a sick way, a not so small part of me wished that she would just yell at me already for breaking her door and touching her and just get it over with so that I could start apologizing.

When she glanced up again, I reluctantly nodded.

Isabella's forehead wrinkled and her head tilted right in study. For a long moment, she just… looked at me, intently, too, perhaps still trying to piece me together in her mind. I, of course, wouldn't know that for certain, because God had apparently hated me when he'd made her mind silent.

"Ridiculous," she suddenly muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She scrubbed her face, an action I couldn't hope to interpret. "This is just ridiculous."

But for whatever reason, call it intuition or stupidity, I had the distinct impression that that small show of aggravation hadn't been directed at me.

And when my Isabella focused on me once more, giving me the barest hint of a smile, and spoke, I almost passed out myself.

"Thank you, Edward… for not letting me fall."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #32? <strong>


	32. Détente

**Emerald City Blonde **named this one.

Robsjenn, AnjieNet, slcottin, jansails, for the love of cullens, CindyWindy, bittenbyedward1918, BilliCullen, Bow to your sensei, Carandash86, CdrIvanova, and pnkats ALL came up with similar prompts and/or reactions (which I'll take as prompts, too ;)).

Détente (noun): _Fr._ a relaxing of tension, especially between nations, as by negotiations or agreements.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #32: Détente<strong>

"So, why do you even care?"

The tone of her voice, like everything else about her, was baffling. I could only chock the softness of it up to lingering shock from her fainting spell.

Without thinking, in less time than it took for her to blink, I ran a quick check of her vitals. Loud only to me, my Isabella's heart thumped faster than usual, but only slightly, not enough to cause concern. There was a light sheen of perspiration along her forehead, too – not surprising bearing in mind the elevated temperature of her apartment (I'd turned on the heat, of course) – but it just made her skin look like alabaster satin.

No shivering. No sign of impeded speech. Minor dilation of her pupils, but within reason considering the dimness of the room.

Still, while she appeared fine, shock was the only plausible explanation I could come up with, and instinct had every muscle in my body pulling me toward her. Yet I forced myself to remain cemented to the far wall.

When I didn't immediately answer, she asked again.

"About?" I hedged, quickly rearranging my face into the guileless mask I'd mastered over the years. I wasn't about to dump the whole "love of my existence and forever mate" thing over her head. Beyond my concerns regarding her well-being, civil conversation was new for us, so I certainly didn't want to ruin it by revealing what kind of undead sap I was. She had enough reasons to hate me.

"Don't give me that crap," Isabella said, huffing and rolling her eyes at me like I was five. "You're one of _them_. What do you care if she eats me?"

Before she even finished her blasphemous query, my fingers sank into the drywall with a loud crunch.

Because there was no way in hell that red-headed bitch was getting her teeth anywhere near my Isabella.

The thought was appalling.

And terrifying.

And infuriating on a level I couldn't even comprehend. It did strange things to my vision, made my spine go ramrod straight, and made my fists curl into tight hammers that itched to lash out. It made me want to destroy things. Like the building. Or maybe the whole block.

"Did you just wreck my wall?" she halfway yelled.

Startled out of my momentary fit of rage, I looked up only to find that my would-be mate's beautiful eyes were as wide as saucers again. Her lips were parted in surprise, and that slight elevation of her pulse turned into a pounding kettledrum.

_Damn it. _

Wincing under her scrutiny, I dropped my gaze to the floor. "Sorry," I muttered, my shoulders slumping because I just couldn't win. Anne Rice had it all wrong. There was no queen. _I_ was King of the Damned. I sighed. "I'll fix it."

She popped the armrest of the couch and yelled again, the prior softness of her voice now replaced by wheezy anger. "Why did you _break_ my wall?"

"Because I care, okay!" I blurted, not meaning to answer that question any more than I meant to push off the wall so that I could pace the floor. The wall crunched again, and a long, splintering crack shot up to the ceiling from where I'd been leaning.

_Damn it. _

_Again. _

Isabella didn't say anything for a moment, almost as though she were waiting for me to still. Probably because I was moving so fast she couldn't see me. It didn't take a genius or a mind reader to realize that she was the kind of person who probably liked being able to see the object of her wrath.

So, being the apparent slave to her will that I was, I stopped in the very center of the room and turned to face my judge and jury.

"What did you say?" she asked, quieter, eyeing me much in the way she had when she'd first woken up. There was a long strand of hair stuck to her lip, and for a second all I could think about was what it'd be like to be able to smooth it away from her face. And to maybe touch her cheek. Just a little. Just enough to feel the warmth on my skin.

"I care about you being _eaten_, okay?" I swallowed and pushed my hand through my mess of hair. "_A lot_."

"Why?" That barest hint of a smile was back, and I wanted to shake her for being so damnably inscrutable.

"Because I _do_."

Her brows folded together like she was solving some kind of problem or equation, but then, before I could speak again, apparently having come to some decision, she glanced back up to me and motioned toward the chair across from her couch.

"Okay, so let's say…" Isabella paused for a second. "Let's say that I believe you – that you don't want to kill–"

"I would _never_ kill you," I said. Okay, maybe snapped. But I still sat down where she told me to.

"Fine, let's say for argument's sake that you aren't going to–"

"_Ever_."

She rolled her eyes again. "–ever kill me. I have some… questions."

"Anything," I rushed before I could think, elated that she wasn't kicking me out or yelling – again, me with the sap. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Alright…" With measured calculation, my Isabella turned the full force of her gaze on me, daring me to deny her. "So how exactly do you know that my _dogs _lied to me?"

_Damn it. _

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #33?<strong>


	33. Busted!

Lots of you came up with similar prompts but for the love of cullens and wonderfullybedazzled called it by name.

Also, FYI, I have a new fic up and running called, _**OPERATION: Break the Dawn**_. It's a MarineWard :)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #33: Busted!<strong>

"You did _what?_"

I winced at the angry accusation in her voice before dropping my gaze to the floor. Tiny shards of the broken lock littered the floor, so small that she likely couldn't see them, but large enough to embed themselves in her skin the next time she went barefoot. And since I was a mooning idiot, I made a mental note to vacuum before I left. Or before she kicked me out – whichever came first. Fine, before she kicked me out.

"Oh, no, you don't get to look away." My Isabella's palm slapped against the armrest again before she snapped, "Look at me and say that again."

Not really keen on her injuring herself, I winced again. And of course, because I was damned to Hell like the vile bloodsucking being that I was, and she was, well, _her_, I obeyed. Reluctantly, but still. "_IfollowedyoutoLaPush._"

My Isabella's brows climbed to her hairline, and frankly, I was a bit surprised that she could decipher my mumbling. "But why?" she wheezed, high and incredulous.

"I told you already." Having about zero desire to have this conversation, knowing full well that my fool mouth would give me away, my teeth grinded.

With an almost petulant, _humph!_, she crossed her arms over her chest, a move that while indicative her of annoyance also unfortunately drew my attention to the very same parts of her that I really didn't want to be thinking about right now yet couldn't seem to _not_ since having experienced those seconds of feeling her softness in my arms. My eye narrowed.

Damnable creature.

Damnable beautiful creature that would be the death of me.

"No," she countered. "You told me that you cared about me being eaten by another vampire. What does that have to do with La Push?"

My eyes bulged that she could be so clueless and willful in her disregard for her own safety. I made to leave my chair so that I could pace but then quickly thought better of it when I glanced over to the wall I'd _accidentally_ demolished. I settled on grinding my teeth again and huffing, "It's the same thing!"

"What is?" Frustrated, she shoved her hair out of her eyes and chewed her bottom lip. Like everything else about my would-be mate, the action was distracting, drawing my focus until all I could see was the pink plumpness of her skin and all I could think about was how soft and warm they'd be. On mine.

Like that would ever happen.

"What is?" she asked again, this time quieter.

When my focus moved to her eyes, they were wide, staring at the way I stared at her. I swallowed. "Those… _dogs_…" I said, grimacing and waving my hand in haphazard fashion. There was no way I could hide the disgust there. "They could have _hurt_ you, okay?"

She stilled then and her head tilted in study as though I were some strange zoo inhabitant… albeit the kind that could kill you. Even softer, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me, she said, "They wouldn't ever."

"But they _could._" My fists balled up, recalling all too well the cut of those mutts' claws.

We were silent for a little longer, until driven by what I didn't know, I finally sighed. "I can't believe that they didn't tell you that we'd been there."

Isabella's spine straightened, her heart thumped, and her return came out in a breathless, "We?"

I cursed and scrubbed my face. "Well, me first… and then a couple of my… _siblings_… came to, ah, rescue me."

Her reaction was not what I expected. Go figure.

A harsh shrill, "_What?"_ spilled out and her brows were once again somewhere north of her hairline.

I sighed again, because I really, really didn't want to admit to the love of my existence just how ineffective my attempt at saving her had been. Yet unlike her mutts, _I_ could be truthful. More like I would be truthful because my body didn't obey my head anyway so I answered before I could really stop myself. "Yes, fine. I almost died. Your mutts didn't really approve of my presence in their territory."

"What?"

Unsure if her hearing was truly as bad as it seemed, I spoke loudly and slowly. "When I overhead them… discussing the red-head, I perhaps betrayed my position. My intent had been simply on getting you away from them but I couldn't really stop myself from hearing."

She glared at me. "I didn't need rescuing–"

"Yes, you did," I snapped, suddenly furious at _her_. "You don't know what they're capable of."

Shooting up from her position on the couch, she planted her fists on her hips. "I do, too! I've been friends with them for… _years_. Long before you came– "

Following her lead, I was up before she could blink, glaring right back down at her. "Doesn't matter! They're volatile. Ask your friend, Sam, about his _mate_."

Her jaw ticked. "That was an accident."

So she did know.

"_Exactly._" In her anger, my Isabella's heat was incredible, rolling in hot, tempting waves across the spare foot between us. My skin instantly warmed and every bit of me clamored to reach out and grab her. So color me surprised when for once my head won out and forced me to do the opposite. "Anyway," I muttered, spinning around. "Once I heard about the red-head, I acted. There was a chase. I may or may not have been… _incapacitated_."

When I turned back around, the anger had drained from her face and her dark eyes bore into me. "They attacked you?"

I barked a laugh. "You could say that."

"But how?"

"I'd really like to _not_ talk about that, if that's okay with you." Because I didn't. Every time I even thought about it that whole vampire equivalence to nausea reared its ugly head. See, being ripped limb from limb and having your head caught inside the gaping, noxious maw of a horse-sized dog wasn't something you forgot too easily.

"What did they do?" At least she'd stopped yelling.

Crossing my arms, I looked away. "They tore me to pieces, okay? So my family… stepped in."

"Like _pieces?_"

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. "Yes, like in _pieces._ Like my limbs were no longer attached to the rest of me. I'm sure that makes you happy because it hurt. _A lot._"

My Isabella's gaze fell to the carpet and she shifted in place. Soft enough that almost _I_ didn't catch it, she asked, "But you're okay now?"

"What?" This woman was utterly bewildering, and for the millionth time in her presence, I pushed against the invisible vault of her mind, only to come up empty. Like usual. Damn my undead existence.

"You're… you're okay now?" she asked a little louder.

"Well, I'm standing here, aren't I?" Not that I was still bitter about that whole affair. "And don't walk over there. There's still pieces of your lock on the floor," I muttered, as she started to drift toward the left side of the room.

Halting – thankfully – she mumbled, "I just… I don't understand why you would do that… why you _followed_ me." Her mouth hardened. "And by the way, don't do that. It's creepy."

Well, I wasn't going to apologize for that, so I just stood there and stared at her like the besotted fool I was.

Seeing my apparent lack of remorse, she shook her head. "Look, I'll forgive you once because you're not really _human_." I flinched at that even though she was right. "My _dogs_, as you like to call them, have the same weird, creepy instincts."

They have other instincts, too, but I didn't think she wanted a blow by blow. So instead, I just argued, "Except they lie to you. _I_ don't."

My mate cocked her head, studying me again, and in the process made me want to fidget, a reaction that vampires just did _not_ do. But then again, as I'd learned over the past some odd days, this woman made me do a lot of things that weren't quite respectable amongst my own.

"But how do you really know that?" she asked, slowly, narrowing her eyes.

Oh, and this was _exactly _where I wanted this conversation to go. I stalled for a moment, discomfitted under her scrutiny, until discomfort finally won out. "Fine, I _saw_ it. Happy now?"

Isabella's forehead folded in confusion, an expression that in any other circumstance I'd have termed adorable. As it was, it just made me want to groan in aggravation. "Saw what? The red-head?"

There was no way to say this right. So I just… _did_. "I saw it in their thoughts."

The room went absolutely silent but for that of counter cadence rhythm of the ticking clock on the wall and her heart pounding against her ribcage. Throat bobbing, she blinked. "Wait, co– come again?"

As Alice would say, using a common colloquialism of the times, _awesome_.

Knowing no other way to explain it, I sank down into the chair I'd just occupied. Elbows on my knees, face buried in my palms, because I didn't particularly want to see the horror on her face, I answered, "Yes, I read minds. Or I… hear them. Sort of.

"It's like a hall full of voices – a dull roar – which usually I can ignore. But when I want to, I can center on someone specific. I can hear what they're thinking and if they're focused on something, I can see it, too."

I blew out a breath of unnecessary air. "And before you ask, yes, I can hear everyone's on this entire godforsaken planet. Except _yours_, which, by the way, is _extremely_ frustrating."

Her throat cleared before she asked, "You mean frustrating as in that you read minds, period?"

My head shot up, thoroughly and completely taken aback by the casual way in which she responded to my very unsettling little declaration. Where her lovely face had settled into an almost benign, serene expression, there was no telling what mine betrayed. Understand, no one, not even vampires, who were more than accustomed to odd _talents_, took my rather intrusive _gift_ too well. Either she was still in shock and I was missing the signs, or maybe a human buried in the supernatural as my Isabella was just… could deal with it.

No, shock. Definitely.

Slowly, carefully, watching every little hint and tell of my Isabella's face, I said, "Well, _yes_, that can be frustrating because people are…" My nose drew up involuntarily. "Loud and annoying. It makes me not like too many people." I paused, gauging her unnatural calmness and waiting for her to finally erupt. When she didn't, my throat tightened around a non-existent knot at its base. "But I meant that it was frustrating that I couldn't read _yours._"

After a moment, her teeth began worrying her lip again, and like before my eyes shot to the delicate pink flesh, wanting so very much to touch. "Why would that be frustrating?"

My head hung. Because I'm in love with you, even though you hate me. But I didn't say that, thank God. She didn't need to know that. Of course, since my mouth ought to be up for an award for idiocy, instead I said something _almost_ as bad.

"Because… I _like_ you, okay?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #34? <strong>


	34. A Little Less Conversation

Because I just can't resist some Elvis… JTFanfic's got this one.

**Note:** this chapter occurs 2 weeks after last chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #34: <strong>A Little Less Conversation (a little more action please)

"Give me those!"

As we stepped off the curb, I glanced over to my would-be mate only to find her glaring at me, which frankly wasn't that strange of a sight, but at least this time, was one that baffled me. "Why?"

She huffed. "This isn't 1950."

"What?" Of course, it wasn't. After all, I'd been there. The 50s, especially the music, had been rather pleasant.

Her cheeks puffed out before she let out a slow, irritated breath that blew her hair out of her eyes. "I can carry my own crap, thank you very much."

I didn't understand. "What are you talking about?"

Stopping in her tracks, my Isabella planted her fists on her hips and growled at me, which I found endearing. Not that I'd tell her that. "Give me my damned books!" she snapped.

My eyes widened at the volume and vehemence in her voice. "But why?" To demonstrate, I tossed all six of them twenty feet in the air and caught them in a single stack. "This is nothing for me."

"Because I can carry them!" she half-shrieked, oblivious and unimpressed by my quick show.

This time it was me who huffed because she was just infuriating sometimes. If I didn't love her so much I'd have likely wound up biting her on principle. "I don't understand your point," I told her. Because I didn't.

Instead of shrieking or yelling, this time, low and vicious, she practically snarled at me, which again, not that I'd ever tell her, was… _adorable_. "Edward, give me my fucking books before I stab you."

Reluctantly, not wanting her to injure herself by attacking me, I complied. When her forearms flexed under the weight, however, I struggled to not just take them from her, throw her over my shoulder, and run her to class. It'd have been much easier than this slow trek we took each morning.

Understand, this was our new routine.

See, during our conversation two weeks ago, somewhere between me trying to backtrack and not reveal what me liking Isabella actually meant and her ruthlessly pressing for more, thankfully, my brother-in-law had intervened. Using my sometimes-convenient, most-of-the-time-awful gift of telepathy, he'd relayed a rather important little detail.

Peter, Jasper's old compatriot and lieutenant in the Newborn Wars of the mid 1800s (when I'd said that Jasper was a warlord at one point in his undead existence, I'd meant that literally), had called, responding to Jasper's quiet and surreptitious search for the redhead on my behalf. And now, because Jasper's old minions were everywhere and knew everyone, that godforsaken redhead had a name. From what the nomad had said, Victoria, as I now knew her to be, was a slippery bitch, one who easily passed from one region of the country to another without notice. And who, apparently, wasn't exactly well liked amongst the more civil nomadic circles.

But then again, I couldn't blame them once I knew why. You see, after the reign of terror the Volturi – basically our kings – had brought down after the Newborn Wars, amassing a following of rabid baby vampires was generally frowned upon amongst our kind.

Which was exactly what this Victoria seemed to be doing, for reasons I could guess since I now understood the strength and permanence of vampire mating.

Which in turn, managed to give me a coronary, despite not having a functioning heart organ.

Needless to say, my Isabella wasn't going out of my sight. _Ever_.

And after much debating, deliberating, and fine, yelling on both of our sides, I'd finally convinced my love that it was truly in her best interest to have me around.

Hence, now I pretty much followed her around like a lost puppy. Granted, a puppy that could rip apart whole city blocks and who could leap tall buildings in a single bound (undead-style), but still, _I_ was the one following _her_ around wherever she went.

This whole mate thing made us vampires into crazy, irrational beings.

But we had an understanding at least.

Following our usual path, we walked another three blocks, side by side, me doing my usual – looking around, thinking, searching minds, going through all the ways in which that evil redhead could attack, etcetera – and my Isabella doing her usual – looking beautiful, scowling at me, thinking… God only knew what since I wasn't privy, etcetera. After the fourth block, we stopped at a red light. I glanced down, expecting to see the familiar furrow of her brow. Only instead, I found her looking up at me wearing an expression I couldn't decipher at all.

There was a softness to my love's face that I'd only seen when she was asleep. Her eyes were wide and liquid – studying, maybe – and her pink lips were settled into a curious half-smile. Had I needed oxygen, I'd have passed out because I found her to be utterly breathtaking, so much so that everything else seemed to fade.

Like the idiot I was, I just grinned at her.

And… completely missed it when the light turned green and she blindly stepped off the curb.

Right into the path of an oncoming semi.

_Damn it._

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #35? Let's update again say… Mon or Tues… <strong>


	35. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

I was so moved by all of your sweet, sweet prompts wanting Edward to save poor Bella...

But alas, **Burntcore** got this one… cause I totally saw these dudes play at Ozzfest back in either '00 or '01. Or '99. I can't remember anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #35: Let the Bodies Hit the Floor <strong>(lyrics from _Bodies_, by Drowning Pool)

Now would be a good time for a little background on the whole vampire thing.

Understand, for humans, the world of vampires was a dark, clandestine place, filled with gothic mystery, danger, and deadly intrigue. And fine, as far as the humans believed, bats and coffins (idiots).

For those of us directly involved, however, ours was really a rather simple – and on occasion, admittedly strange – existence. See, the human world was… _complicated_, dictated by an expansive and confusing set of norms, codes, and rules, all of which varied depending on what decade one was living in, what country one called home, and how much money one had in the bank. And because humans liked mucking everything up, there was an endless array of consequences for violating the standard.

Our world? Yeah, not so much.

Naturally, simply looking at elementary vampire anatomy and physiology, murder was a given for us.

Considering that most of us had accumulated vast wealth over the decades, centuries, and millennia, stealing was both tedious and unnecessary. Sure, it was a game for some, something to alleviate the boredom, but no one really cared if Vlad over there took a shiny bauble from some human. Now, granted, stealing from another vampire was a different matter, because it was just stupid, much in the way that stealing… _anything_ from a blood-thirsty great white shark was stupid. No one with half a brain did that.

Respecting thy fathers and mothers… to be blunt, since they were all well gone and dead… um, non-issue.

No one cared about lying, either, and blasphemy was, frankly, a bit of a running joke amongst the species, especially when one accepted that we pretty much lived forever and had very little, if any, chance of ever meeting our Maker.

And well, adultery… I went over that one already if you recall. Unlike humans, we vampires don't really _do_ that one. _Ever_. Seriously, since we're changed at the most fundamental, basic levels once we've found our mates, in terms of monogamy, we vampires are right up there with bald eagles, wolves, swans (appropriate, no?), and termites.

In reality, there was only _one_ rule that we had to worry about following and it was one that had been handed down directly by those three aforementioned Volturi kings in Italy.

We just had to be… _quiet. _

Really, that was it. We just needed to maintain a low profile so that our kind could continue on living our undead lives without bother or influence from the cattle (read: humans). And keeping a low profile meant no sparkling in front of others, no divulging vampire secrets to non-vampires, and absolutely no flaunting our unnatural superpowers.

Doing otherwise came with the simple, yet swift, consequence of beheading and burning.

Trials? Juries? Prison? Yeah, we didn't really do those things either.

Which was now a _serious_ problem for me, because I had approximately one-sixteenth of a second to make the very important choice between saving the love of my existence from being crushed by a truck and breaking the only law I ever had to obey.

In all honesty, to use Alice's vernacular, it was a no brainer.

Before my Isabella even registered the last-second blast of the horn, faster than any human eye could follow, I darted between her and the truck and wrapped her soft, frail body inside the granite cage of my arms. Too short on time to count on actually escaping the oncoming vehicle, without thinking, I instantly turned my back, curled myself around my mate, and with a quick curse spat between gritted teeth, braced for impact.

The semi hit us with an ear-splitting explosion of shattering glass and ripping metal. The ground shook and all around us, car alarms blared from the pressure wave.

Given who, or rather _what_ I was, my Isabella and I didn't move an inch, however. Instead, at collision, my feet dug deep into the pavement, rolling up the asphalt, as the entire front end of the vehicle crunched and folded around my back like a parting wave. Metal chunks of the engine flew past us and shards of glass fell like rain.

As if on a time-lapse delay, a second later, the spice of adrenaline hit the back of my throat as Isabella tensed and screamed bloody murder into my shirt.

"Shh!" I soothed, stroking her hair, instinctively brushing my lips across her forehead. "You're all right."

And she was. That much I knew because while the tightness of my grip might have bruised her a little, the trickle of blood that I smelled when I sampled the air certainly wasn't hers. And _trust me_, I'd have known if _she_ were bleeding.

Glancing over my shoulder, still holding my shaking mate whose heart now pounded so loudly I could feel it in my teeth, I looked past the mangled wreckage of the engine block and hood up to the cab. The white balloon of the airbag blocked my view, but I could hear the driver's breathing and his heart was nowhere close to failing.

_Edward!_ Alice suddenly yelled in my head. _Oh, my God! I didn't see until she looked up at you! _

Fortunately, my family was a resourceful lot. And fast, too.

About the time I caught the flash of my sister's inky mop, in my periphery, a blonde blur whizzed by, streaking across the street and up the nearest pole. A soft crunch said that the traffic camera was… non-functioning.

"Move!" Jasper ordered, grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving us out of the cave my body had made in the engine. "Get her out of here. We've got this."

From somewhere near the back of the truck, there was a creak and a groan, and right about the time the semi's trailer tipped over with a resounding crash, the newly custom-destroyed rear end of the nearest parked car replaced us.

I nodded once before gathering up my trembling mate and literally flying across the pavement, headed… far, far away. As I ran, vaulting over cars, bounding across lanes of stagnant traffic, I continued to hold her, murmuring soft, cooing words that meant nothing in her ear.

Of course, only because she was terrified and in shock (I wasn't stupid after all. What human wouldn't be after having experienced near-death at the hands of an evil tractor and trailer?), my Isabella's slender arms clung to my neck, pulling her tighter and tighter and _tighter_ against my chest.

And because of the ability my vampire mind had to catalogue and compartmentalize every little observation and impression my body experienced, even as I ran, as if I were in a vacuum where sensations were amplified, I noticed every little scratch of her short-cut nails against my skin.

I registered every little tug on the shorter hair at my nape.

I caught every expanding breath of air her lungs took and I counted every echoing thump of her heart.

And I damned sure felt the damp, luxuriant warmth of silky soft lips repeatedly pressing against the exposed skin at the base of my throat.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #36? Let's update… ThursFriday-ish, yeah? **

**LOL like I wouldn't have Eddie boy save her…_ pffft_! :P**


	36. Kiss

LOL you guys… such romantics. Your wish, my command. Lots of you named this one.

Sorry I missed the Thurs/Fri target. :/ Work got in the way.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #36: Kiss<strong>

As we streaked through thick stands of dark green forest and flew across winding, bubbling streams, I told myself that our escape from Seattle was a right and proper pre-caution and that I was simply making sure that we were far enough away from the site of the destruction to avoid any risk of perceived involvement.

Seeing as how my Isabella was still clinging to me and how I could still feel the unexpected (and nearly mind-numbing) warmth of her mouth against my neck, she was obviously shaken up beyond any notion of logical behavior and as such, was clearly in no condition whatsoever to answer questions or stares or anything of the sort. Frankly, I wasn't altogether certain that further screaming wasn't still on the table. Hence, removing my love from the scene of her brush with death was truly the prudent choice.

And for the sake of full disclosure, I should probably go ahead and admit that it was a wise choice for me, as well, especially since my fingers were still itching from an irrational desire to tear that godforsaken truck apart even further for threatening her wellbeing to begin with. Yes, my Isabella was the one who stepped out onto the street, but still… it almost killed her and that made me… _angry_. Which was not a good thing for breakable entities such as trucks and people and buildings.

I told you that the whole mating thing turned us into crazy, irrational beings.

So see? All things considered, my rationale for running no less than one hundred and fifty miles away from Seattle was _perfectly_ reasonable.

Okay, _fine_, so _maybe_ running _that_ far was a bit of an overreaction on my part. Maybe. But look, given that there was a very high (if not one hundred percent) probability that this was the only moment in my entire, endless existence when I would experience the sublime sensation of my mate's lips willingly on my person… so, shoot me for wanting to draw it out just a little bit. You would too if you were in my shoes.

But _of course_, right about the time we broke through a line of pines onto a wide grassy knoll, my annoyingly loud Victorian conscience and sense of propriety got the better of me, practically screaming that I was being a cad (I'm old like that, remember) for taking advantage of my mate's woozy state in such a way.

Go figure.

And since I was me, reluctantly, not at all happy about releasing the soft, sweet-smelling (understatement) woman in my arms, I sighed, trotted over to flat rock at the edge of the clearing, and gently sat my Isabella down. And then I cursed silently in a dozen languages at the loss when I pried her arms from my neck.

"Are you all right?" I asked, using my softest voice – the one that always seemed to get me my way when it came to the female persuasion – as I scanned her lovely face for any sign that she was not. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink from our run, her lips even pinker, and her dark eyes were remarkably clear and assessing. Odd, I mused, considering that her obviously incoherent behavior suggested that they should have been otherwise.

My Isabella looked at me for a moment and then frowned. "Why?"

Now I frowned. "Are you all right?" I asked a little louder. I'd long suspected my mate's hearing was a little off anyway.

"I heard you." Her delicate brow furrowed, and I had to school my fingers to keep from smoothing the harsh line away. "I'm fine. Why? Do I look all mangled up or something?"

"What?"

"I asked you if I looked all mangled up or something?" she replied, louder, as if _I_, the vampire with preternatural hearing that rivaled virtually any creature on the planet, was the one who couldn't hear.

This was absurd.

"No, you look just fine," I mumbled. Honestly, _just fine _sounded a lot like blasphemy since _utterly beautiful and perfect_ was a lot closer to the truth, but I didn't say that since this conversation had already taken a sharp turn into the realm of the bizarre.

"Thank you," she said.

And I blinked.

And she shivered.

And my jacket came off my body in record time.

Forcing myself to slow my motions to something remotely human so as to not frighten her, I draped the cool leather over her narrow shoulders. "Sorry it's not warm already."

My mate shook her head, and I swore I caught the slight lift of one corner of her mouth. I was very… _perplexed_. And even more so when she reached up, tugged my jacket tighter around her slender frame, and took a deep breath.

"You smell good."

I blinked again.

Because you know, I didn't really have a response to that.

Although I did want to scream, _Who are you?!_

Realm of the bizarre? We were way beyond that now.

Try _The Twilight Zone_.

In a brief second of rising panic, I wondered if I'd somehow missed a chunk of metal conking her on the head, so I quickly rescanned her vitals, much in the way I had when she'd passed out in her apartment (my fault), expecting to find _something_ to explain this strange behavior.

But no, my love _was_… fine. Her heart rate was steady, if not slightly accelerated. Her breathing was normal. No dilation of the pupils either, which, by the way, were centered on me in an extremely disconcerting fashion.

Damnable bewildering creature!

Not saying a word, we stood there for a long moment. Two long moments maybe. Just… stood there, not speaking, her almost smiling at me, and me… well, mooning after her like a besotted fool. Which was, admittedly, just par for the course.

Right about the time I finally opened my mouth to say… _something_, my mate's hand shot out from under my coat and moved toward my abdomen, in the process reminding me that I'd forgotten to step back away once I'd covered her shoulders. No more than a foot of empty space separated us. As she suddenly realized what she was doing, her hand stopped just before touching me and hovered mid-air. "Can I?"

I wasn't sure what I said – probably nothing because at that moment, my mind, in all its vampire complexity and vastness, went absolutely blank – but I must have done something. A second later, as if in slow motion, I watched, gaping, as her palm, as hot as a fiery brand, flattened against the rigid plane of my stomach. Her fingers spread and then slowly closed, curling my shirt into her fist.

And then, she tugged.

Being, first off, dumbfounded, and secondly, the slave to her will that I was, I obeyed, easing in closer and closer, until I felt her knees frame either side of my hips.

Apparently satisfied by my compliance, Isabella released my shirt, smoothing away non-existent wrinkles, and then flattened her palm once more against my abdomen. The slight lift of her lips became more pronounced when the muscles there gave an involuntary flex. Her hand slowly slid up my chest, figuratively, and maybe literally burning me to death, before continuing to the side of my neck.

Beyond all doubt, I was absolutely certain that at any moment, I would surely burst into flames. Yet I couldn't even begin to will myself to move.

"So smooth," she murmured, stroking my skin. "Nothing like I thought."

I swallowed.

Not venom because my mouth was as dry as a desert.

Those lovely, scorching fingers curled around my nape and then she pulled down ever so slightly, a nothing force against my strength yet enough that my neck instinctively and immediately bent at her invitation, even as she leaned up to meet me. My mate's lips were… right _there_, and her breath, warm and sweet, made me damned near lose my mind.

"Isabella," I panted, screwing my eyes shut, avoiding the impossible temptation of having her _so_ incredibly close. I swallowed again and fisted my hands in my pockets so that I wouldn't grab her and do… _things_. Because surely, _surely_ she was out of her god-blessed mind right now, and I told myself over and over that I could not – _would not_ – take advantage of her, no matter how much every cell in my body clamored to do just that. "You're not yourself right no–"

"Shut up,_ leech_," she murmured, instantly silencing my feeble protest… right before she removed that final inch of space and pressed her sweet mouth to mine.

I may or may not have made a very _un_-vampire-like whimpering noise.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #37? And don't even think about saying sex, lol<strong>


	37. More

My fic-wife (**Scooterstale**) requested more… so, I do what I'm told, yo.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #37: More<strong>

Most vampires tended toward atheism in their religious beliefs. Or at least agnosticism.

It just made more sense for us, you see.

Bearing in mind that we were immortals for all intents and purposes, already at the very top of the proverbial food chain, and were lacking in virtually nothing, for many of us, the concept of Heaven had little appeal. Frankly, it didn't net us any real gains.

Of course, that would be assuming that we'd be allowed inside the Pearly Gates to begin with.

Which, let's be blunt here, was more than likely… not an option.

Especially seeing as how we vampires were pretty much… the spawn of Satan himself. Seriously, no use arguing. Just look up my recent diatribe on vampire/human morality and rules. Pretty sure blood-sucking murderous monsters weren't exactly on the "Good List".

And Hell? You know, that place with the gnashing of teeth and weeping and lakes of sulfur and perpetual darkness and everlasting fire, yeah, no one in their right mind actually _wanted_ to go to Hell.

Hence, for most of us, it was just easier and less stressful believing the whole religion-thing didn't exist. And again, since we were immortals that worked out just fine.

Except… now, I wasn't quite so sure about all of that.

Why?

Because _never_, not once in my entire one hundred plus years of breathing, had I experienced this kind of sheer, blinding, soul-consuming _joy_.

See, this _had_ to be Heaven.

There was no other word for it.

Which meant there was a God after all.

So call me a believer.

Having my mate's burning hot lips willingly moving against mine, having her fingernails scraping across the back of my neck as she pulled me closer, having her knees squeeze my hips… it was something akin to the Rapture, and every single part of me vibrated with the sense of utter rightness and pleasure of it.

With each soft brush of her lips, my Isabella's heart pounded inside of her chest, sending exquisite, echoing shockwaves through my limbs and down my spine. With every touch, her heat, as hot as an inferno, seeped into my skin, warming me into something better than the cold, dead creature that I was. And with each passing second, the whine of her blood flowing through her veins, high pitched and singing, became the most erotic, alluring sound I'd ever heard.

As much as I should have been a gentleman, as much as I knew that I should have pushed her away since she'd obviously had a screw come loose sometime in the last two hours, I just… _couldn't_.

I didn't have that kind of self-control.

_Instead,_ my fists uncurled and flew from the relative safety of my pockets to the soft, gentle, _dangerous_ curves of my mate's hips, where my fingers intuitively splayed out, framing her and pulling her closer until she sat just on the edge of the rock. _Instead,_ I slanted my mouth over hers, opening my lips ever so slightly, just enough that when she breathed out I could taste the incredible sweetness. And _instead,_ when she swept her warm, wet tongue out across my lower lip, mine was instantly there to meet it.

"You taste good too," my Isabella whispered as her hands dropped back down to my abdomen and sneaked beneath the hem of my shirt to find bare skin.

I groaned… loudly… because she had _no _idea what that felt like.

None. At. All.

So lost in the sensation of her hands and lips and heart and smell and the drug that was just _her_, I wasn't prepared for when my love's ankles locked together behind my back and her arms tightened around my neck. What little remained of my good sense completely vanished, and I reacted without thinking, purely on instinct. Never parting from the Heaven that was my Isabella's mouth, in a blur of vampire speed, I lifted her such that her chest was flush and tight against mine and I moved us both further onto the rock so that I could gently lay her down.

I placed as much weight as I dared on her fragile frame, and beneath me, my love's heart beat a frantic rhythm that sped with each stroke of my tongue against hers. Completely transfixed by the perfection of her face – the high cheekbones now dusted pink, the arcs of her brows, the pale, delicate lavender of her closed eyelids – I kissed her until she panted into my mouth. Pulling away only long enough for her to breathe, incapable of stopping myself, I ran my fingertips along her jaw to her chin, and finally to the thumping pulse point, marveling at the softness and warmth. When I pressed my lips to her there on her throat – soft and closed-mouthed – Isabella's eyes shot wide, so dark and lovely, and her hands stole to my scalp where she gripped and tugged on my hair, pulling me back to her mouth to start all over again.

And when my mate's thighs tightened around my middle, there was absolutely _no_ part of me that didn't react, and before I could even contemplate stopping, my hips involuntarily rocked against her most feminine of places.

_She_ was the one who made a whimpering noise this time.

Okay, _fine_, maybe I did too.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #38? <strong>

**Let's do this again… say Mon/Tues. We'll do some plot stuff. Must move forward and all that silliness. ;) **

**Oh, and before anyone calls me on it, I've never been fond of the whole "no tongue thing" in canon. So… um, I like to ignore that little detail and pretend venom's only a risk if directly injected into the bloodstream. I think most will agree that it's more fun that way.**


	38. Panic

MissYesPleaseSir got this one :)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt 38:<strong> Panic (_not_ at the disco)

At some point in our dry hu– … _make out_ session, reality decided to intrude.

Namely in the form of a loud, annoying buzz from the phone in my hip pocket.

"Phone."

"What?" I said against my love's lips, scowling as she began to pull away.

"Your phone's ringing," Isabella whispered as she raked her fingernails down my stomach. The sensation, a tickle more than anything else, sent a shiver down my spine and made my eyes roll back. Without thinking – not that I'd been doing much of that anyway – I framed her warm, beautiful face between my palms and leaned down to reclaim her lips, mumbling a hasty, "Don't care."

And for a little while, I truly didn't.

And neither did she for that matter, as evidenced by more of the hot luxury of her mouth eagerly moving against mine and more of the mind-numbing bliss of her fingertips exploring the bare planes of my chest and abdomen beneath my shirt and … wherever else she pleased, my normally-meddling, antiquated conscience be damned.

As an aside, that part – my allowance of her free exploration, that is – was a fairly easy rationalization. I was _hers _after all _– forever – _so it wasn't like this was some meaningless interlude based on mere physical attraction. At least not for me.

Too, I argued, all of her physical functions were fine – more than fine – and considering my preternatural sight and hearing, not to mention our current proximity, I knew that without any question or doubt. No, there were _definitely_ no head injuries to compromise her decision-making abilities, and despite my earlier worries about shock, my Isabella certainly _seemed _coherent enough to make her own choices… Especially when she looked up at me with those disturbingly clear brown eyes of hers and then surprised me by leaning up to suck on my Adam's apple, which in turn, for a brief second, made _me_ certifiably _insane_.

Every muscle in my body locked down, quivering, as wave after wave of tickling hot pleasure rolled through my limbs and forced my grip on her hips to tighten. I made some kind of whining-grunting-purring sound, something not remotely human, but she just smiled against my throat before sucking on me again, telling me that this woman knew _exactly_ what she was doing to me. And moreover that she liked it.

I didn't understand her strange shift in behavior. Really, not at all. But damned if I had it in me to stop her. Hence, somewhere in between the wet heat of my love's mouth and the divine friction of… other _things_ south of my waistline, I decided all over again to just enjoy myself and give in to my (perhaps) ungentlemanly behavior. Plus, let's be honest here, God only knew if I'd ever have this chance again… so yes, _fine_, color me very uninterested in hampering my mate's rightful perusal of my person and my subsequent delight in it.

In fact, it was about time for me to begin my perusal of _her_ person.

Of course, maybe a minute later, right about the time I dragged my lips down her throat, sucking, tasting, and teasing her for once, and slid my hands beneath the hem of her shirt, easing my way up the soft, feverishly hot skin of her stomach, my pocket buzzed again.

"Damn it," I muttered, reluctantly rolling to my side so that I could fish the stupid thing out of my pocket. As I tapped the screen to life, Isabella's palm flattened against my chest before dropping down to my belt, as her mouth simultaneously assaulted my neck again. Her hips rocked against my lower half and something _very_ ungentlemanly threatened to spill out.

I _almost_ threw the godforsaken phone.

Somehow, and don't ask me how, I managed to only crack the case when my fist involuntarily closed around it.

But then, when I glanced down, my _sister's_ name scrolled across the screen.

My spine turned ramrod straight and I answered… immediately. "What is it, Alice?"

Alice's voice was low, but the urgency behind it was unmistakable. "She's coming."

And like that, as if doused with a bucket of ice water, every bit of the warmth and bliss of the last few minutes vanished, replaced by an instant sense of black dread that seemed to somehow transmit directly through me to my Isabella. Her dark eyes lifted to meet mine, wide with worry, and her lips, wet and swollen, the same ones that had just been latched onto my throat, mouthed a silent, "What is it?"

Gritting my teeth, I shook my head.

I didn't have to ask Alice who she meant by that _she_. Before I could think to slow myself to a more human speed, I sprung off the rock and began pacing the ground in front of it, shooting back and forth faster than Isabella could hope to follow. "When?"

Alice made a loud, panicked noise that made my insides curl. "I don't know! It's all blurry and it keeps blacking out on me! I can't see!"

I stopped. "What are you talking about?" Needing some kind of outlet, my fingers buried themselves into the edge of a car-sized granite boulder next to the rock Isabella still sat on, crumbling it into pale gray dust that fell to the ground like rain. "You mean like she's not decided?"

"No, not like that. It's just… _fuzzy_."

My eyes shot back to Isabella, who was now up and sitting, her arms wrapped around her knees, the inside of her cheek sucked in between her teeth. I swallowed and tore a chunk of the rock away. "You mean like Isabella is… _fuzzy?_"

"Yes, exactly like her," Alice replied. In the background, I could hear Jasper barking orders to Emmett and the rest of the family. "I can't see exactly where or when… just that it's somewhere close to us and soon." She paused. "And there are others with her, Edward. Just like Peter said. Newborns. There are dozens of them and they're all coming this way!"

Some kind of strange blend of fury and terror turned the venom in my veins to ice, freezing me in place, eyes locked on my fragile human mate. "Victoria really is coming for her, isn't she?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

Alice didn't answer.

"Fuck." This time when my fist contacted the boulder, it split down the center with a loud crack of thunder that echoed through the clearing. The two halves, still upright, teetered and shuddered for a split second before collapsing to the ground.

"We'll be there…" Almost as if in slow motion, I took a deep breath, tasting the sudden spike of familiar adrenaline that now tainted the air, and looked down at my watch. "Soon."

The phone was back in my pocket a sixteenth of a second later, and before my love could blink, she was again in my arms, held as tightly and closely as I dared. She panted out a single surprised breath against the base of my throat.

And then we were flying, racing through the very forest from which we'd just come.

"Edward?" Isabella asked, her heart pounding like a frantic kettledrum, leaching from her chest into mine. Each strike rattled my bones, and waves of that furious terror pulsed in time, pushing me faster and faster. "What's going–"

"She's not touching you. Ever." I growled as I launched us through the air and over a shallow creek. "I swear it."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #39? <strong>

**Happy BD2 week! :D**


	39. Face-off

Crazymama got this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #39: Face-off<strong>

Apparently, my love's new (and still completely baffling) acceptance of my species did _not_ extend to vampires other than… well, me.

You see, the moment we walked through the door, as soon as her eyes fell on the six other pasty-white bloodsuckers (her phrase) I called my _family_ for all intents and purposes, my Isabella's shoulders tensed, her face pinched, and those lovely pink lips of hers mashed into a thin, straight line I knew better than my own name. As she said her quiet hellos and nice to meet yous, she was certainly polite enough (to the untrained eye), and it wasn't like she was trying to stab any of them or anything (and let's face it, considering our own first few run-ins, that she wasn't wielding any kind of No. 2 weaponry was a pretty significant improvement as far as introductions went). But I wasn't stupid. Beyond the rigid stance and mashed lips, I heard the hollow thump of her heart, tasted the spike of adrenaline, and saw her subtly shift closer to me, and I knew that my mate was not _happy_ about being in a room with six creatures of the same species that stole her father. She was probably terrified. Again.

From across the room, Jasper frowned, because she couldn't fool him any more than she could fool me, at least not when it came to emotion. He was an empath after all, and a rather smug one at that.

I knew that we were supposed to be planning right now, plotting how to protect my mate and in the process arrange it such that her would-be attacker died. Painfully. And by my hand. But given the last few hours, I couldn't resist, so quietly enough that only the vampires in the room would hear – in other words, everyone but Isabella – I whispered, "Tell me."

_Complex. _One brow lifted as Jasper studied the dark-haired woman beside me. _Initial notes of sharp, almost rancid fear, of both Victoria and of us, countered by a long-term simmering anger. Hues of bitterness and resentment, maybe even a brush of antipathy. Deeper, hints of melancholy and loneliness. _He tilted his head and tapped his chin. _All _f_ading into a fatalistic kind of acceptance… _

I rolled my eyes. "You really need to stop reading Esme's _Oenology Today_. She's not a cabernet." Never mind that his assessment – the loneliness in particular – made me ache on her behalf.

Carlisle and Esme both stifled giggles at the same time Jasper mentally harrumphed. _Whatever. Don't ask if you don't like how I give my readings. _

I sighed at his dramatics. For a general who had ruthlessly commanded hordes of bloodthirsty newborns and had brutally slaughtered countless covens across the Southern US and Mexico without even blinking an eye, my brother-in-law could be rather… sensitive sometimes. Instead of arguing with him, in that same sub-human whisper, I asked, "Anything else I should know?"

He cut me a flat stare and folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh, come on!" A not quite human growl rumbled through my chest, threatening to spill out, but I didn't think my love was quite ready for that side of me, so I tamped that right back down. There would be plenty of time for growling and roughhousing when I tore that redheaded bitch to pieces.

A short forever passed before Jasper's stare/glare morphed into a knowing smirk. _Fine, she likes you. _

I stilled instantly, and knowing that he had me, his tawny eyes twinkled. _Don't act so surprised. I can smell her all over you. How do you not know this already? Are you seriously that obtuse?_

Ignoring his baiting, growling and everything else forgotten, I reeled as something hot and heavy surged through my empty chest. "How much?" I squeaked. Yes, I sounded ridiculously desperate, but frankly, I couldn't find it in me to care. Because I _was_ desperate – for exactly what he promised, more so than anything else in my entire century-plus of existence.

_Now who's being dramatic?_

"Asshole," I hissed, squeezing my fists together inside my pockets. "Just wait. Next time you daydream about eating someone, I'm telling Alice."

This time _he_ rolled _his_ eyes. _Fine, she likes you a lot, well enough that she wants to jump your– _

So focused on Jasper's mental murmur, I flinched when Isabella suddenly coughed and popped my arm hard enough that she winced. "Um, hello? Are you going to clue me in or are we just going to keep standing here like idiots while you have whatever super secret vampire conversation you're having with whoever you're having it with?"

Looking down at the now-familiar, _adorable_ scowl, my lips twitched. "Ah, right. Sorry about that. Habit."

"Well, stop it. It's annoying."

Like usual, Emmett guffawed, inappropriately loudly too, and then Rosalie nodded and grinned like damned Cheshire cat. "I like her. She gets my vote." Still laughing, Emmett added, "Just wait until he and Alice start up. Now that's _really_ annoying."

Without commenting, Alice skipped across the room to pinch him, easily ducking out of the way of Emmett's responding swipe. "Ow! Come back here!"

Eyeing my family's ribbing and antics, my Isabella's delicate brows arched and she leaned into me. I wasn't sure if it was a voluntary action or not, but I didn't care. I basked in her willing proximity as much as I basked in her warmth. My hand automatically fell to the small of her back.

Nose scrunched and glancing up at me, she leaned in even closer, in the process lifting up the hem of her shirt just enough for my forefinger to find a slip of fever-hot skin at her waist, and she whispered, "They're not real vampires, are they?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #40? <strong>


	40. Doth my eye deceive me?

Okay. So, first off… apologies for the unexpected and randomly appearing hiatus. Not dwelling on the details, the last two months have been a royal cluster of work, traveling, and general time-suckage.

But! I'm working on getting back into the regular writing/posting groove as best I can. **I'll be posting the next chapter to this story… likely sometime tomorrow night. **

But since it's been a while, I wanted to provide a little refresher before we get back into the swing of things.

Also, since it's been a while for me too, I'll ask for your patience if it takes me a couple of rounds to get this Edward's voice back.

Thanks :)

* * *

><p><strong>General summary up to this point:<strong>

For the most part, this fic starts out mostly canon. Character back-stories are pretty much the same, and like canon Edward, this Edward is telepathic, too. Basically, the main differences are: a) Edward and the Cullens don't go to Forks as per canon, but instead, a few years later in the timeline, they move to Seattle where the "kids" plan to enroll in college, b) the Cullens aren't the first vampires in Bella's life, and okay, c) this Edward _might_ be just a smidge snarkier than canon E.

Once the Cullens arrive in Seattle, Edward stumbles upon Bella in one of the university libraries. As in canon, bloodlust ensues, yet this Bella is no shrinking violet. She recognizes Edward for what he is at once, calls him out on it, and threatens to stab him. The reasons and wherefores of this "damnable girl" baffle Edward, and like canon E, he runs off to Alaska to avoid eating her.

Of course, also like canon E, he's intrigued by Bella and winds up returning in short order. A second confrontation between the two occurs, and Edward later learns that he's not the first vampires to interfere with her life. Her father was killed by a nomadic vampire, who we later learn was destroyed. As such, Bella is less than thrilled by Edward's presence as she holds the vampire species in about as much regard as cockroaches.

Upon learning about Bella's loss and oddly drawn to her, Edward finally gives in and decides that it's his job to a) protect Bella and b) avenge the death of her father. In the process, against all better logic and reason, he begins to experience "feelings" for her, never mind the fact that Bella still hates him.

Later on, Edward follows Bella when he discovers that she's gone to La Push, where a pack of werewolves makes their home. To his absolute horror, she is actually "friends" with said pack. While out near La Push, Edward also a) learns that the mate of the vampire who killed her father (the red-headed bitch) is still out there, b) learns that the pack thinks this vampire is coming back for revenge and that Bella's in danger, and c) winds up getting torn apart when he betrays his position.

Ed's family saves him from becoming wolf chow just in the nick of time. Yet immediately after recovering from his near death experience, Edward returns to Bella's old house in Forks to search for possible "evidence" of the red-headed vampire. His search is cut off short, however, when Bella arrives unexpectedly, Jacob (one of the wolves) in tow. Fortunately, the wolf doesn't detect his presence, although Edward nearly loses it when he learns that Jake kissed Bella against her will. Once Jake leaves, being the stalker-y vamp that Edward is, he stays, watches Bella sleep and like all good Edwards realizes that these "feelings" he's been experiencing is actually love. Like the mated, permanent kind.

Once back in Seattle, Edward decides to tell Bella what he's learned out at La Push (and frankly, he just wants to be around her), so he confronts her at her apartment. She freaks at his unexpected appearance outside her door, passes out, and he blows through her door to catch her. After she wakes up, a somewhat uncomfortable discussion follows, during which Bella forces more out of Edward than he wishes to disclose – about the vamp after her, about his telepathic abilities, and about his feelings for her. For reasons Edward can't quite grasp, after said discussion, she agrees to his protection detail.

A couple of weeks post-discussion, while walking together to class, Edward saves Bella from certain death at the hands of a semi. The Cullens, aided by Alice's vision, which for whatever reason is somewhat "fuzzy" when it comes to Bella, arrive just in time to help clean up the mess. To avoid being associated with the accident, Edward whisks Bella away, running her as far from the city as possible.

It's there, out in the middle of nowhere, the impossible occurs: Bella kisses Edward. He doesn't understand the abrupt change in her behavior… at all… but because he's in love with her and deathly afraid that this is the only time his mate will return his affections, he tosses aside his normal antiquated sensibilities and they launch headlong into a hot and heavy make out session.

Of course, because the author of this story likes to mess with the readers, right, smack dab in the middle of said make out session, Alice catches a vision that Victoria (the red-headed bitch) is coming, along with a horde of newborns.

Edward rushes Bella back to Seattle. And then finally, after a somewhat shaky introduction to the Cullens, who Edward knows will help him protect his mate and love, and who don't behave anything like what Bella is expecting, we end chapter 39 with Bella asking Edward, "They're not real vampires, are they?"

* * *

><p><strong>So, we'll start back off from there. :)<strong>


	41. Plan

Majority rules (from reviews from ch39). Meepison, JTFanfic, Carandash86, and Dans l'ombre all called something along these lines.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter #41: Plan<strong>

_Edward, are you listening?_

Reluctantly, my gaze slid from the loveliness of my mate's scrunched up face to my brother-in-law across the room. Beside an old relic of a blackboard Alice had brought down from the attic – a room that frankly could rival that of any hoarder on the planet – Jasper twirled what looked like one of Esme's dowel rods.

_Right_, because now that Alice and Emmett had finally returned from their impromptu wrestling match, which, as always, Alice had won, and I'd introduced my mate to my family, we were… strategizing.

And because he just couldn't help himself, being the general that he was, Jasper had acquired a _pointer_.

Barely resisting the temptation of rolling my eyes, I tapped my forehead and more out of habit than intent, replied too softly for my love to hear. "Aren't I always?"

Jasper whipped his dowel rod/pointer against the blackboard and shot me an irritated, silent, _This is serious. You don't know what newborns are capable of. I do._

A gruesome image suddenly appeared in Jasper's mind. Preserved for all time in perfect, vampiric clarity and recall, a rabid, feral-looking man in a bolo tie and a pair of broken spurs sprinted across a high desert plain, chasing down a second vampire with long golden tresses. The blonde was fast, even in her high-necked, bustled gown, but halfway across the plain, with unparalleled strength, the male leapt into the air, flying higher and further than any within our species I'd ever encountered. Easily overtaking his prey, he knocked the woman to the ground, wrenched her head from her neck, and literally tore her to bits.

As if that wasn't enough to get my attention, to make a point, Jasper then replaced the blonde victim in that long-ago memory with the dark-haired woman beside me. A kind of terrified shock, the likes I'd never experienced in all my years, rocked my mind and coursed through my long-dead veins, burning as frigid as liquid nitrogen. The effect was instantaneous and almost overwhelming, having the combinatorial effect of making me see scarlet, making me want to attack _him_, and lastly, nearly causing me to lose my lunch (white-tail, today).

"_Don't _do that again… _ever_," I whisper-growled, clenching my fists to keep from breaking the furniture. Or him. Considering the horrified fury that still swept through my limbs and down my spine, either would do.

"Really, Jazz, that wasn't a good idea," Alice said from the couch, deceptively innocent as she crossed her legs at the ankles and clasped her hands in her lap. "Edward's serious. If you do that again…" She paused and stared up at the ceiling. "I give you only 25% odds that he won't come across the room."

An aggravated huff abruptly came from my right, stealing my attention and effectively dousing my fury, and my mate popped me for the second time tonight. "God, will you stop it already?!"

"Sorry," I mumbled without even hesitating, and at a more human level, too – no doubt, that whole irrational mate thing again. "Forgot."

Settling into an all too familiar – and yes, adorable – position, Isabella's slender arms crossed over her chest and she glared up at me. "Well, _learn_."

Of course, that made Rosalie burst into a fit of laughter. Emmett, however, was surprisingly more circumspect about it and only sniggered into his massive paw. Then again, being on the receiving end of a dressing down was par for the course for him… hence the sympathetic almost-apology he shot me a second later.

But see, I didn't need his sympathy, because I heard more in my love's admonishment than was probably there. That _learn_ implied permanence. Granted, _maybe _that was just my overly hopeful undead heart at work again, but either way, my lips curved up. And unable to resist now that I seemingly had – for whatever bizarre and unexplainable reason – free access to her person, my fingers stole across the bit of space between us, gently coaxed free the hand closest, and I began stroking up and down my Isabella's forearm. Following in the wake of my fingertips, tiny, baby-soft hairs stood at attention, and her heart thumped loudly enough that I could feel the vibration. Which only made my smile widen into an entirely situation inappropriate grin.

"Now, where were we?" Jasper started once more. With an exasperated sigh, he tapped the board and pointed to a complex matrix of white x's and curved lines. "From the intell I've received from Peter and Charlotte, not to mention a few others in my network, Victoria will likely bring her army in from the east. Esme and Carlisle, you will be positioned here. Rosalie, here. And Em–"

"Army?" Isabella interrupted, her voice uncharacteristically high, her dark eyes wide. "What constitutes an _army_ in vamp world? Are we talking hundreds? Thousands? In Seattle?!"

While he certainly felt the vicious spike of her fear, Jasper's entire face lit up, clearly pleased that at least someone was taking this seriously – only in his opinion, mind you, because whether he thought so or not, I was certainly paying loads of attention now that I'd witnessed… 2nd hand what one of these newborns was capable of. "Excellent question, Isabella. I estima–"

"It's Bella," she mumbled, swallowing, as her slim fingers wound their way between mine and squeezed. "I go by Bella."

My head automatically swiveled, my muscles locked, and I couldn't help the surprised, "_What?_" that tumbled out of my mouth. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?!"

Every member of my family laughed at me through their thoughts.

And my mate had the gall to arch her brow at me, as though _I_ were the one who'd missed something critical.

_Damnable creature.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #42? (and yes, still doing prompts! So keep 'em coming <strong>**)**


	42. Sleepover

"Guest" got this one. RoryCullen offered something along the same lines.

Hope you all had a lovely Valentine's Day and Happy Weekend :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter #42: Sleepover<strong>

"Edward, why don't you take her upstairs."

When I hesitated, Esme threw me a decidedly motherly frown of disapproval, as if I really was a mere seventeen year old and she really was my mother. Frankly, it'd been a while since she'd pulled that one, so despite my mind reading gift/curse, my brows shot up in surprise.

And just like a mother would, she completely ignored my incredulity.

"You'll be able to hear everything from up there anyway," she said with a huff, pointedly eying the stairs as she stood and began clearing away the now-empty cup of tea and plate of snacks she'd prepared for our one and only non-vampire guest.

Not to drift too far off topic, I suppose it's worth noting that there is only one vampiric family (coven, if you prefer) in the known world that would actually stock human food on any kind of regular basis.

If you haven't guessed by now, yes, that'd be mine.

Granted, in a way – albeit a somewhat convoluted, roundabout one – it actually made some measure of sense being that we didn't really behave like "real"vampires as Isabella – correction: _Bella_ – had termed us… well, period.

You see, because Carlisle was _Carlisle_, a man who'd had the utter _joy_ of being turned into the very devil his witch-burning father made him hunt as a human, he'd decided long ago that supporting local grocers was one of many small ways we vampires could/should redeem our demonic selves to our human counterparts – an _economic-moral exchange _of sorts.

Of course, Jasper, ever practical and a vampire who didn't face quite the same existential conflict that Carlisle did, simply called our human food _camouflage._

Alice considered shopping of any variety to be entertainment.

And Esme, she just enjoyed going through the motions of baking. It reminded her of simpler times and – her words, not mine – made the house feel more like a home (mind reader, remember? I know these things). Never mind that unless the fruits of her labor had platelets and plasma, we couldn't exactly eat it. Then again, that wasn't the point.

Hence, after about a decade of arguing, Emmett, Rosalie, and I had finally learned to just shrug and take turns putting away the milk each week.

Now, exactly why Esme's sugar cookies just had to be _bat shaped_ when they came out on Bella's plate was a different matter altogether.

At least my mate was amused, especially when I scowled at her as she bit off a "wing".

Speaking of my _mother_, just before ducking into the kitchen, tray in hand, Esme glanced over to our couch. As she took in my Isabella – pardon me, _Bella_, not that I was still a little bitter about that – that chastising frown of hers suddenly morphed into a soft smile that even I couldn't resist. Because behind it was a kind of warmth and acceptance that I doubted any of my kind (but me) could ever match.

Silently, just for me, she added, _The poor girl looks exhausted, Edward. It's been such a long day for her. She needs to rest, so why don't you go lie down with her. We'll keep watch._

I nodded slowly, because even if I didn't know it already, even if I couldn't see it through Esme's eyes, the slow, steady cadence of my love's heart, coupled with the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage against mine was more than enough evidence to support Esme's observation. Sitting as close as we were, I'd already been unconsciously registering every tiny movement she made since the moment Jasper began laying out our defensive strategy five hours ago.

Really, the fact of the matter was, after nearly being crushed, being run back and forth through the trees, learning that the enemy was well on its way, and hours worth of strategy, my _Bella_ was well past mere exhaustion.

She was already asleep.

Which, truthfully, considering that she was literally surrounded by the very species she abhorred, was an accomplishment that I found to be borderline astounding. Yet another bizarre and unexplainable shift in her behavior that I swore to myself that I _would_ query her about… at some point. Perhaps when I developed enough backbone and/or willpower to dare to question the positive progression of our relationship.

Yeah, or maybe not.

But my Bella was – asleep, that is - and had been for the last thirty minutes of our strategy session, despite all her not-so-subtle self-pinches and leg crosses to keep her eyes open.

When I looked down, even though Esme's vision had given me a glimpse and even though every inch of my skin already knew her exact position, I wasn't prepared for the image of my love's head resting against my shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her lips slack and slightly parted, and when I felt her fingers give an involuntary squeeze, tightening around the fabric of my shirt at my stomach, as if for whatever reason, she didn't want me to leave, something warm and tingly flooded my cold, dead veins.

For an all-too-brief moment, the clock seemed to stop and everything else – Esme's beige on beige living room, my family, the fact that there was a bloodthirsty newborn army heading this way – disappeared. For just this tiny instant in time, there was only my mate and love for all eternity and me. And for the first time in more years than I could remember, I felt something close to human. And I couldn't help but think that this was what it would have been like sitting on the swing of my human mother's porch, clutching the hand of my would-be bride.

Careful not to wake her, I slid my arm beneath Bella's knees and behind her back and lifted her nothing weight. Like before, as I'd run her through the forests outside of Seattle, I was instantly flooded with sensations that left me staggered.

The blissful warmth of her skin.

The slow, musical thump of her pulse.

The soft kiss of air against my throat when her head lolled against me.

The feather-light press of her palm exactly where my heart would have been.

Wordlessly, I crossed the room to the stairs, only remembering when I took the first step up that there was one piece of furniture that I'd never had a reason to own. And of course, it was the very one my Bella needed now.

"Damn it," I muttered under me breath, cursing myself for not thinking ahead.

I turned, prepared for another round of laughter at my expense, only to find six smiles. But this time, they weren't mocking or sarcastic, but instead… happy. And dare I say, _hopeful_… for me, despite the danger and risk that lay in store for all of us.

Before I could even ask, Alice shot me an image of what _resembled_ my bedroom.

Yet it didn't, because in the very center sat a wide, heavy wrought iron affair, pillows and blankets galore.

_I took the liberty of doing a little remodeling while you were out. I hope you don't mind. _Wearing her signature fortune-teller's grin, she winked and added,_ You can thank me later. _

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #43? <strong>


	43. Lightning

**NanStew** got this one.

Also, I love how you ladies were so surprised by the sweetness of last chapter… It's like you all think I'm only capable of torturing and killing my characters… *evil laugh*

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #43: Lightning<strong>

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…"

My eyes fluttered shut as Bella's palm slid inside my shirt and blazed a hot trail across my bare stomach, sending wave after godforsaken wave of rippling shudders down my spine. With a sharp intake of dizzyingly fragrant air, my muscles contracted beneath her touch, and I froze, torn between rolling my mate under me like I wanted and running away like any kind of respectable gentleman should do.

As if she could read my mind even in sleep, Bella made the decision for me. Her arm, fragile as it was, might as well have been steel as it cinched around my waist, pulling the soft heat of her body even tighter against mine.

A hoarse, strangled sound that wasn't remotely human made it past my tongue, and with every bit of willpower I had, I bit down on my lip – _hard _– searching for some kind of distraction. But like the century's worth of MLB stats I'd already recited, shuffled, and then recited again over the last handful of hours while I lay here with my Bella, my efforts failed.

Miserably and completely.

Because you see, my love was the devil incarnate.

Seriously.

Yes, sure, I was the vampire. But she was the succubus – a beautiful, tempting siren of a creature that possessed the ability to drive a man mad.

And I was _not_ immune.

At all.

Downstairs, my sister laughed at me. Because, of course, she'd seen all this the second she decided to _remodel _my room.

Swallowing, knowing I was about to do something I'd likely regret – or rather, something Bella would likely hit me for – I attempted to extricate myself, aiming to be a gentleman for once and watch her sleep from the wingback in the corner (like a proper vampiric stalker/mate). But like before, the second I moved, her grip just tightened, which was more than enough to persuade that sliver of a gentleman to disappear. Barely suppressing another one of those unseemly strangled-sounding groans, I clenched my fists to keep from destroying the mattress and resigned myself to just suffering for my love some more.

Okay, fine, having the woman of my eternal existence draped across my chest and clinging to me like she cared wasn't exactly the traditional definition of _suffering_. Per se. Certain, and they shall remain unnamed, parts of me, however, begged to disagree. Those parts suffered. _A lot._ We won't go into that.

But see, somewhere around ten in the morning, if it were possible and because God hated/loved me, my _suffering _compounded.

Because as my Bella began to slowly wake, she also began to squirm. Which was a blessing and a curse.

Making soft, girlish half-asleep little noises that damned near made me lose my mind, she burrowed her face into my chest. A second later, a slender thigh slid over mine, tucking itself neatly between my legs, and there was absolutely no way I could stop my hand from darting to the small of her back. Nor could I prevent my damnable wandering fingers from walking up under her shirt to stroke her so-soft skin.

As if she finally acknowledged she was hugging an ice cube, she stiffened.

And then I stiffened, waiting for the inevitable tirade, because after all, yesterday simply had to be a function of her near-death experience. I wasn't stupid.

But that tirade didn't come.

Instead, I got…

"Morning," Bella mumbled into my shirt as she stretched and resumed her squirming. That wretched/deliciously hot palm of hers skimmed from my waist up to my chest where her fingertips began absently tracing circles over my skin. _Petting_. My mate was _petting_ me. And I could feel it _everywhere_.

"Morning," I said. Or whispered. Or _maybe,_ panted was actually closer to the truth, because again, with every mind-numbing pass of her fingertips, all I could think about was getting her under me and doing a whole lot more than what we'd done yesterday in the forest outside of Seattle.

"How long did I sleep?"

"Six hours, fifty-three minutes, and forty-seven seconds."

It's possible I answered that too quickly. But then again, I'd _suffered_ every blasted one of those seconds. And I'd do it again. Gladly. Every single night into perpetuity.

"So seven hours, give or take?" I felt more than saw her lips curve up.

Which made my lips curve up. Softer, for whatever reason eased by her reaction to my perhaps creepy (to some) knowledge, I asked, "Are you okay? Yesterday was… a lot, I know."

"Yeah, you could say that," Bella answered, slowly nodding.

"I'm sorry," came out before I really thought about it. "I won't let her near you, I swear it." Because I wouldn't. Ever.

My Bella stopped her petting, and there was a second of hesitation, which, of course, made me tense, knowing that my blissful torture was sadly at an end. But then, when I expected to be turned away, she looked up my chest, and the sight of her face – her lovely pink mouth, her warm, sleepy eyes, – stabbed me squarely and arrested every bit of my attention. As if in slow motion, frozen and unwilling – incapable, really – of moving, I watched as she thought for a second, those warm eyes churning with mysteries I'd give my incisors to get a glimpse of, and then she shifted…

Only to crawl up me until we were face to face, inches apart, and her knees fell to the bed on either side of my hips.

Out of instinct more than rational thought, my fingers, which had been gently stroking the bare skin at her shirt hem, automatically splayed out, spanning her lower back, and my other hand found the back of her right thigh. Seeing what in my expression I couldn't fathom, the tip of Bella's tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip.

And that was all the invitation I needed.

Like yesterday, my mate's mouth could only be described as the Rapture. A hot, wet Heaven that made the blood I didn't have in my veins boil. And her hands were everywhere all at once – pulling me closer, pushing me back against the mattress, only to pull me closer again. For reasons I'd never understand, she damned near devoured me, giving me everything I could ever want.

And I took it. Gentleman, be damned, whatever she was willing to give me, I took it.

When my shirt flew over my head, I didn't even blink, happily giving my Bella access to any part of me she wanted.

And when her shirt came off a few minutes later, I just groaned and thanked whatever deity had granted me the ecstasy of so much of her skin on mine. Because I swore that there was nothing better in Heaven or on earth than the soft, perfect fullness of her breasts pressing against my chest.

That is, until Bella yanked me upright, and her mouth left mine, only so that I could _taste_ them, too.

"More," she whispered, tugging on the short hair at my nape as she pushed against my mouth.

Being the willing, near-giddy slave to her will that I was, I obliged, alternating between suckling and tonguing her nipples like I'd seen so many times in the thoughts and memories of others. For the first time in my decades of un-life, I was grateful for all those unwanted thoughts. And you bet I used every bit of knowledge I had unwittingly stored, which wound up earning me a stream of soft, desperate little moans that I never wanted to cease. Okay, and it also earned me a whole lot more suffering in those certain unnamed parts of mine. But I could deal with that.

Without warning, Bella's hips rocked against me, netting her her own barrage of desperate moans out of me. Overwhelmed, my lips dragged up the column of her throat to claim her mouth again, pausing to lick over her pulse point. When she shivered, I licked her there again. And again. And again.

The sound of my love's heart racing, echoing and rhythmic against my tongue, the sudden bouquet of pheromones that filled my lungs and painted the inside of my mouth, the sparks of friction every single time she moved… it was almost too much, enough to blank my mind and make me delirious.

My bedroom could have been burning down, and I wouldn't have noticed a thing.

That is, until she spoke again, soft and whispering and saying the one thing that destroyed my very foundation.

"I want you."

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #44? <strong>


	44. Not Gonna Happen

**StoryPainter** named this one. Guest "a reader", 22Blue, and DownThatLayne named similar prompts.

**Prompt #44: Not Gonna Happen**

* * *

><p>"I want you," she said.<p>

A dozen curses in a dozen different languages screamed through my head. Like usual, all of them were directed inward.

You see, were I an intelligent creature, I'd have taken what my mate so tantalizingly offered without even batting an eye.

Were I clever or smart or bright or even just of average intellect, at the slightest hint of her approval and desire, I'd have ripped every remaining shred of fabric off her body, spread her out beneath me, and spent the next week or thirty of our lives (I use that term loosely) repeatedly coaxing my name from her lips until her throat couldn't even think of producing a scream.

Indeed, I'd have _loved_ her in the most physical sense of the word. I'd have cherished her. I'd have buried those nameless parts of me in her until the rest of the world disappeared, and like a proper vampiric mate, I'd have _worshiped_ her.

And yes, _fine_, at risk of vulgarity (not that I'd ever actually say this out loud), just so we're all clear, I'd have outright fucked her.

Quickly, eagerly, and very, very, _very_ happily.

But… come on, you all know me by now.

Being the eternal, over-thinking, _stupid_ masochist that I am, I never do things the easy way. Or the fast way. Or the smart way.

Smart? Oh no, not me.

Never me.

As such, when my Bella's nimble fingers tugged on my belt with clear, unambiguous intent, before I could even think (and in case you missed the whole point of the above few paragraphs, because I'm an idiot), my body launched itself across the room.

And I say _launched_ because I mean exactly that. My body literally propelled itself across the room, rivaling the velocity of a shot from a cannon.

I blinked as my back slammed into the far wall hard enough to send a spider web of cracks through the plaster, and as soon as my soles hit the floor, a loud, wheezy, _"Why?!"_ came tumbling out of my mouth.

A second of stunned silence passed before my mate's jaw rightfully dropped. "Wha–" she started, and then stopped. Wide-eyed, fingers outstretched and flexing as though I were still right there and primed for undressing, she shook her head. "Why are you over there?!"

I didn't answer at first, because frankly, I didn't precisely know myself. Never mind, yes, I did. As much as I wanted her, as much as my body craved hers, I needed something else far, far more. So instead of speaking, knowing I'd reveal myself for the idiot that I was, I doubled over, rested my elbows on my knees, and began counting the carpet fibers.

"And what's wrong? Why are you bent over?"

Glancing up, trying to not to gape at the perfection of my Bella's half-naked body in the process, I muttered, "I'm _winded_, okay?" Perhaps that was a lie.

"_Winded?_" Bella spun around on the bed, not even bothering to hide herself from me.

The sway of her breasts was absolutely mesmerizing. Honestly, had I been a few decades younger and in less rigid control of my distractible vampiric faculties, I doubt I'd have been able to see anything else. As it were, I just cursed _her _this time and _barely_ bit back something between a groan and a growl. Damnable woman.

Unconvinced by my probable lie, Bella's brow furrowed sharply as she waved an aggravated hand. "Vampires don't even have to breathe! What the hell are you talking about?"

Being that I was her creature – in every sense of the term – I instantly straightened at her less than happy tone. Yet, reminding myself of all the questions and doubt that had plagued my mind since her near death experience at the hand of that semi, I forced myself to still and remained plastered to the wall. Where it was safe.

Needing some kind of distraction, not to mention a minute to cool off, I silently ran through half a century's worth of minor league stats. Once I finally… calmed – as much as one could expect given the circumstances – I scanned the room, eventually settling on a darker spot in the paint immediately above my love's head. Staring at that rather than her, I mumbled something else not even approaching a real answer. "I needed a break."

Which was both cowardly and the wrong thing to say.

"What?" she asked, not buying it at all. Bella shifted forward – only slightly – and it was more than enough motion that her breasts did that swaying thing once more.

Which, of course, made me crazy all over again.

I clearly had no control over my own mouth, so like usual, I spoke (or wheezed) before I even knew what was happening, "And for God's sake, would you please put a shirt on?"

_Damn it._

My love's eyes boggled and her soft, pink (and swollen) lips dropped into another surprised 'O'.

But instead of saving my sanity by dressing, being the demure, delicate flower that my mate was, as soon as she had a second to actually process my request, that surprised expression morphed into an angry glare, and she flat out yelled at me. "Why should I?!"

By the way, a little known fact about arguments: volume begets volume.

And since I was already on edge and borderline insane, I yelled back. "_Exactly!_" My fingers drilled into the drywall at my back. "You tell me! Explain yourself!"

"What?!"

As an aside, can you tell that communication is one of our stronger points?

"Why?" I blurted, smacking my head against the wall. Drywall dust rained down. "I want to know _why!_"

Still glaring, still yelling, she shot to her knees, and this time, consumed as I was by confusion and frustration and everything else, I only noticed her nakedness a little. "Why what?" she snapped.

I made some haphazard, frustrated motion at her, at the bed, and then at me. "You! Me!"

Bella crossed her arms over her breasts, which was, frankly, a blessing and a curse. "I'm not following you," she huffed, blowing a long ribbon of hair out of her eyes. "At all."

Echoing in my ears, her heart thumped once. Then twice. And then a third time as my shoulders slumped.

"Why do you want me?" I answered, this time more a whisper than anything else. The center of my chest pulsed in recognition – a sharp ache that physiologically shouldn't have been even possible. Softer and frowning because, well, I just couldn't help it, I explained, "You hated me. You _still_ hate me for all I know."

Never mind what Jasper said. I knew as well as any that lust and love, or even lust and like, didn't always travel in pairs. While certainly I wanted her to lust after me, especially seeing as how I practically drooled over her, yes, fine, I wanted more. I wanted it all.

"You don't even _like_… vampires." Slowly, somehow tired, I exhaled a heavy breath, which made that achy pulse even worse. "I just don't… understand why you want me."

And there it was.

My insecurities, laid out neatly and presented to her to do with as she would.

I waited for her to yell some more.

Or leave.

Or something logical and expected.

But, of course, because God hated me and my forever-mate made no sense, her lips twitched.

So I sighed and hung my head. "I'm serious. I don't… understand you. Or this. Or anything..." I told her another unvarnished truth. "You are the most confounding individual I've ever encountered in all my years."

Her heart double thumped this time. "I don't hate you, Edward," she said, almost as softly. "I like you… Maybe a lot."

My head whipped up.

And Bella smiled.

To which I gaped.

And she shrugged.

To which I frowned.

And then she huffed and rolled her eyes like I was five. "Fine. How about this? I figured some things out and I changed my mind, okay? I'm allowed to do that, you know."

Swallowing against a rising hope that nearly choked me, I squeaked out an almost inaudible, "When?"

"When what?"

I swallowed again and squeezed my fists together. "When did you change your mind?"

One perfect brow arched up to her hairline, as though I'd missed something completely obvious. "Oh," my Bella said, offhand, like we were discussing something inconsequential and entirely irrelevant instead of the most significant occurrence in my entire undead existence. "I'd say a couple of weeks ago… About the time you broke my door down and caught me. The semi just convinced me to stop wasting time trying to figure out how to tell you."

We really, _really_ needed to work on our communication.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #45? <strong>

So… I'm thinking that we're nearing the climax of this little ficlet. I'd say… we should probably be able to knock this one down in what… say 10-ish chapters? I have a few potential paths floating around in the back of my brain, but how we go ultimately depends on where you prompt me :)


	45. Let's Get It On

**TwilightMomofTwo **called it

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #45: Let's Get It On<strong>

"No! Absolutely not!"

My mate glared at me.

Which you'd think I'd have been used to by now.

Of course, me being me, I wasn't, and as such my fists balled by my sides while I focused every bit of my self control on not withering and giving in.

Because on this particular matter, I couldn't.

Absolutely not.

No.

No way.

No how.

_No. _

She huffed – loudly – and the light reflecting off a flying strand of silky hair, throwing a rainbow of reds and coppers, threatened to steal my attention. "Edward, don't be stupid and stop being so stubborn."

My teeth snapped together. "No!" Without conscious direction, my fists uncurled, left my sides, and shot up for emphasis. "No, no, _no!_ I'm not listening to this."

Folding her arms across her chest, Bella's eyes – lovely and dark and at the moment, really rather angry – narrowed and cut over to my _sister_ and supposed _brother-in-law_. "Is he always like this?"

Six vampires answered in tired unison. "_Yes_."

"Traitors," I mumbled, low enough that my Bella couldn't hear, as I spun on my heel and began pacing the length of the yard. I tried to keep my speed close to reasonable, but the wear pattern that quickly appeared in my wake said that I failed.

"She has a point, you know." Jasper stroked his chin. "Really, I hadn't even thought of it. It's worth trying at least. They might be willing to listen, considering."

I halted dead in my tracks and sucked down a deep, unnecessary breath of damp Seattle air, just _barely_ resisting the urge to streak across the twenty feet between us, tackle him to the ground, and beat the idiocy out of him.

Bella's brows lifted as if to say, _"I told you so!"_ and I couldn't help but notice how she willingly stepped closer to the beings she'd wanted nothing to do with mere days ago. Which, of course, because I was likely the most pathetic undead creature on the planet, made my chest throb with an achy kind of warmth – an increasingly familiar sensation that I still wasn't sure we vampires should even be able to physically experience. It also sent a barrage of splintering cracks through my resolve.

_Damn it._

I glanced over to Alice.

Who just shrugged and tried to play it casual. "I don't know. You know I can't see them." _Seriously, I can't, _she shot silently. Undisguised worry colored the inner voice only I could hear. _But I can see what happens if we don't… _

I stilled. "I thought you said it was fuzzy."

_It is, but look, see for yourself…_

An image suddenly materialized in Alice's mind, followed by another, and then another, each one blurred and shaky, but each one distinctly gruesome. Sickening sounds – vampire bones crushing to dust, limbs and flesh being ripped away, high-pitched screams of pain and terror – echoed, bouncing around inside my skull, as my family's faces flashed in front of my eyes, bloodied and mangled.

_Victoria is picking up more of them as she's moving across… She's so unpredictable… like she somehow knows how to work around me! I don't know how she's doing it, but it's getting worse the closer she gets. They'll turn the entire city into a bloodbath if we don't do something…_

"But…"

_Some of us won't survive this…_ The worry in her mental voice was so thick that she sounded hoarse. Alice's face pinched together and her bottom lip tucked under her teeth. _And I can't tell you what happens to Bella… I can't see her, Edward!_

What was left of that warm ache that occupied the center of my chest turned into something hard and ice cold. Lifting my face to the sky in blind fury, I bit back a loud, violent sound that wasn't even remotely human. In that single instant in time, my mind blanked of all rational thought, consumed with the overwhelming need to destroy… something.

Preferably something large.

Like a mountain.

Or a continent.

But then a soft pressure was on my forearm, and I recoiled.

Swallowing back terrified rage, my eyes automatically closed as the steady, reassuring drum of my mate's heart pounded through her palm, through my skin, and delved deep into my bones. When I finally calmed enough to look at her, the anger had bled out of her expression, replaced by a uncharacteristically soft emotion I'd seen more than a few times over the past few days, ever since I'd (foolishly… yet maybe not) halted our physical… _progress… _in favor of doing things a little slower (in other words, a little more old school… like, well, Victorian school).

As an aside, do you people have any idea how difficult – not to mention how incredibly _uncomfortable_ – it is resisting the temptation that is my love and her naked body? Those certain still to be left unnamed parts of me weren't exactly on board with forgoing the relief of a century's worth of pent up tension in order to learn her favorite color, okay? Suffering? Thy name is Edward.

Nonetheless, admittedly, that suffering is apparently what netted me this new, soft warmth that my Bella wore now. Which seemed to me like a good thing by comparison to the earlier glares.

At least she wasn't yelling anymore.

_Women. _

So confusing.

"Edward, let me call him," she said, looking up at me in ways that had me nearly dropping to my knees. "Let me explain to him what's going on. This is their fight, too. They can help. The seven of you plus the ten of them…"

My jaw clenched. But the combination of the rare pleading in her voice and the gory images of Alice's maybe-future still stamped onto my brain made my "_No!"_ come out minus the exclamation point.

"You don't understand… those _mutts_ are… unstable." I ran my fingertip along down my Bella's cheek to her lips. "I _can't_ risk that. I can't let you near them."

Especially not that lying asshole she called Jake. Who, by the way, I still planned on gutting at some point for daring to put his mouth on hers. You know, after we'd dealt with this raving red-headed bitch and her army of rabid newborns. One monster at a time and all that.

Bella's grip tightened around my arm, and frustration mingled with resolve, clipping her words. "Look, we can't let them coming into Seattle. We _can't_. I won't have that on my conscience."

"But–"

"Stop being so hard headed. You're the one who told me what they're capable of, what they did to you…"

My damnable perfect vampiric recall chose that exact moment to rear its ugly head, flooding my head and nose with the nauseating stench of dog breath. My stomach rolled in remembrance.

"If they can tear you apart… they can do the same to those newborns."

_Ugh. _

At least she had the decency to flinch when she said it.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #46?<strong>


	46. Why Can't We Be Friends

**Lisamichelle17 **got this one.

You guys give awesome prompts. I was tempted to use… like all of them. :) But her prompt-song got stuck in my head and I needed to exorcise it, lol.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #46: Why Can't We Be Friends, by War.<strong>

I could smell those godforsaken animals before I could hear them.

Trust me, once your face has literally been _inside _one of those gaping maws, covered with stinky, slimy doggy drool, there is zero chance of ever forgetting _that_ stench. Their breath is one of those awful smells that will coat your tongue and won't wash off for days, no matter how much blood you suck down to mask it. It's a noxious cross between week-old deer carcass, rotten eggs, and, well, other similarly disagreeable things that I won't mention here because it's just not appropriate for mixed company.

And, of course, that's on top of the persisting, general reek of wet dog fur that follows them around like Pig Pen's dust cloud.

Sometimes being a vampire with vampire-perfect senses definitely has his drawbacks.

The breeze kicked up, delivering with it even more of that terrible odor – somehow worse mixed in with the normally pleasant hints of pine and falling leaves. My nose crinkled.

And… with a frown, I abruptly realized that that was the first show of movement I'd made in probably twenty minutes. Maybe more. Maybe ever since we'd pulled into this field, climbed out of Emmett's Jeep, locked my Bella back inside when she tried to follow, and assembled into a defensive line between my fragile, yet tart-tongued, love and the dark woods in front of us.

A loud, splintering sound warned that my fists had balled too tightly.

Again.

I stretched my fingers out with a wince, hoping they'd heal up quickly. Before I needed them.

Yes, there was a distinct possibility that I was a little _tense_.

Okay, fine. A lot tense.

But then again, you would be, too.

Especially if there was a psychopath vampire in mourning heading your way with a band of bloodthirsty newborns.

_And_ if on top of that, against all better judgment, the love of your eternal existence had somehow managed to cajole you with her feminine – and very unfairly used – wiles into an ill-conceived attempt at convincing your immortal, smelly enemy to fight along side you against said psychopath vampire. Never mind the fact that that enemy-turn-maybe-ally consisted of an uncontrollable, unstable pack of beasts whose whole purpose in life was to kill your kind. And that one member of said pack of beasts had already torn you apart mere weeks ago.

Oh, and another one of said pack was clearly a controlling, lying asshole dog who'd previously tried to kiss your forever mate against her wishes and preferences, and because of which, who'd you'd likely be compelled to kill on sight because… well, that's just what we vampire mates do, okay.

Oh, right, and don't forget that should that rightful (and inevitable) revenge-murder occur, all hell would break loose between the two main parties involved, because, again, that's just what vampires and wear-dogs do when in close proximity and when one has attacked the other.

And, oh, by the way, let's not forget that the entire population of the state of Washington would likely die because there would be no one left to kill the psychopath vampire and her army once we'd all slaughtered each other.

Sucking in a deep, unnecessary breath, I counted to 10,000. Albeit quickly.

So see, dear reader, standing here at the edge of the forest, just on our side of the invisible treaty line that had been drawn decades ago, and waiting for my sworn enemy to arrive because they were, grudgingly, our best hope at coming out of this whole battle unscathed, I had all the reason in the world to be tense.

"Edward, you really need to calm down."

With a grimace and a low, (poorly) contained growl, I glanced over my shoulder to my traitor brother-in-law.

Like mine, Jasper's fists were balled into tight hammers, and along with a matching set of gritted teeth, his face was a pattern of strained lines and creases.

I leveled him a flat stare. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I stressing my empath brother-in-law out? How dare I!" I kept my snideness too quiet for my Bella to hear, of course. I also made sure to turn such that she wouldn't be able to read my lips through the windshield. While I'm not the brightest of vampires, I'm not _that_ stupid.

_Asshole. _

I was tempted to employ that old children's taunt.

On the other hand, I was _technically_ only seventeen…

So I smiled. "I know you are, but what am I."

Of course, my smile and related smugness wiped clear off my face a split-second later when through the forest, a familiar cacophony of voices – the blend of a dozen angry, confused, and violent boy-beasts – suddenly slammed into my head.

About that time, from my immediate left, Alice's voice rang out in that silly, overdramatic, singsong way of hers.

"They're _he-re_."

No kidding.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #47?<strong>


	47. Close Encounters of the Canine Kind

**Bklover08 **got this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #47: Close Encounters… of the Canine Kind<strong>

Objectively speaking, for a mind reader such as myself, listening to the pack collective (as I called it) was a fascinating experience. Unlike my usual one-way mental flows, the images, smells, and sounds from each individual shifter were broadcast to all, forming a layered, beehive-like mindmeld.

Frankly, it was worthy of the best science fiction story ever. No privacy for them, yet probably the most efficient method of communication on the planet.

For me, of course, it was like listening in stereo, each thought amplified and coming at me from a dozen individuals all at once. Which was, to use the modern parlance, pretty cool. And distracting.

"_I don't trust them, Jake."_

"_Me neither! Those are the ones that broke Brady's leg."_

"_What do they want?"_

"_God, they stink."_

"_Let's kill them!"_

"No, how about let's not." I sighed in perhaps dramatic fashion, knowing there was no good way to put this next bit out there. So I just did. "And yes, I can hear you."

Their hackles rose immediately (expected), and the biggest one growled, flashing a set of (very) long and (very) sharp canines that I already had intimate enough experience with to know that they could rend me to pieces. In short order, as my admission sunk in, the other wolves joined in, slobbering and growling like the rabid dogs they were. The combined noise was louder than any NASCAR start, which reminded me again why I never really got into that sport (if that's what we're going to call it). More than one pawed at the ground, snapping their jaws.

Our line braced for attack, but stayed, sticking with the plan to handle this peacefully. Since we kind of had to if we all wanted to live and all.

But then, a picture of my Bella – and _of course_, it was of that night when that mutt had put his stinking mouth on her – just _had_ to flash across the one called Jacob's mind.

Which really meant it flashed across the minds of a dozen beasts.

Which meant I saw it _all _in full 3D Technicolor and heard every bit of it in THX surround sound.

Yes, _maybe_ I lost it a little.

Without any conscious thought or direction, seeing nothing but red, my body launched itself through the air.

Fortunately, or maybe not, a brick wall by the name of Emmett suddenly slammed into me mid-air, however. Knocking us both out of the sky, we fell in a tangle of tumbling limbs. We skidded a solid forty feet, rolling up the ground like a scroll before barreling into a truck-sized boulder at the edge of the clearing.

Being the asshole that he was, my giant of a brother in law pinned me down, punching me hard enough to send a splintering crack through my left cheek when I tried to throw him off. Still seeing red, I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow as I kicked at his knee. He just grunted and wrenched my arms backward until they were a hair's breadth from sheering off my torso.

"Calm down, dick," he snapped, angling my shoulders up even higher. "Chill for five minutes, will you?"

"Okay," I mumbled against the dirt. You and I both know that was a lie.

Apparently, he did too. And when I did legitimately calm enough to think straight, he still wouldn't let me up.

Asshole.

So from too many feet away, we were forced to watch as my sprightly sister used my _diversion_ and, to Jasper's utter horror, bounded from her spot on our side of the line to the very center. The noise from the wolves escalated to something out of the bowels of hell (in other words, LSU's Tiger Stadium).

"Alice!" Jasper yelled. He instantly moved to follow, but apparently Alice had already covered that scenario. Carlisle and Rosalie grabbed him by the waist and arms, hauling him back with only a little more grace than Emmett had bestowed on me.

Of course, Alice just turned, smiled, and blew him a kiss. "It's okay, Jazzy-poo. They won't hurt me."

Now in a more rational frame of mind (though still seething), my eyes boggled, at both her proverbial _nameless parts_ and the outright lie since I knew as well as she did that she couldn't see their futures at all. And, okay, fine, maybe at the absurd name he seemingly allowed her to use often enough that it just fell from her lips.

Ignoring me and my (seething) boggling, Alice spun back to face the wolves, fit a fist to one hip, and cocked a perfectly sculpted brow. "Are you guys done with all the male posturing?" She side-eyed me too. "Cause it can stop about now. Seriously, we have shit to do."

Apparently, the dogs were just as stunned as I was. Which was probably the only reason the growling and snapping subsided. One of them even made a high pitched yelping noise.

"Al–" I called out (grunted) from under Emmett.

"I don't want to hear it, Edward! You. Translate."

"But–"

A crash sounded from behind us.

I craned my neck as far as I could – considering my position – and it was just enough to catch the last bit of glass exploding out from Emmett's driver side window. I watched, horrified, as my love used my own baseball bat to clear out the jagged pieces left behind.

And then she hopped out of the Jeep.

I made a mental note to replace my windows with bullet proof glass in case I needed to lock her in again.

"But nothing," my Bella snapped, pissed off and glaring death at us all.

If I weren't so terrified _for_ her, frankly, I might have been fearful _of_ her.

As I tried – and failed again – to shove Emmett off, my love stalked over to where Alice stood in the dead center of the clearing. "I've had enough of all of you!" Quivering with rage, she pointed over to the asshole Jacob – clearly recognizing him even in monster form – and said, "And you! Go change right now so we can talk like normal people."

Normal was not a really the word I would have used in this situation, but either way, the words – or more likely her death glare – had its intended effect. Jacob's muzzle dropped to the ground and he whined like she'd just beaten him.

I almost felt sorry for the mutt when she reminded him – like a five year old – to wear some pants.

Almost.

Okay, not at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for your patience. Had a little bit of *gasp* writer's block on this one for a little while, which was a very new (and unpleasant) experience for me. Feeling a bit better now. Anywho, thank you for reading and sticking with me! <strong>

**PROMPT #48?**


	48. Unholy Alliance

**MissYesPleaseSir **named this one. Rita01tx and JTFanFic offered similar.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #48: Unholy Alliance<strong>

"I don't like it," the dog and I said in unison, both of us scowling for all we were worth.

Hey, at least we agreed on _something_.

Of course, my Bella just rolled her lovely eyes. "We've gone over this 8,000 times. It's the only way." When Jacob's gaze cut over to me as he started to speak, she threw him with another one of her death glares. "And don't start, Jacob."

"What?!" he said, throwing up his hands in faux innocence. And I say _faux _because that's exactly what it was.

My mate huffed because she wasn't fooled in the least. "I don't know what you did back there to set Edward off – and I _know_ you did something so don't even try to deny it – but you better not do it again. We don't have time for your bullshit."

Shifting minutely closer to my tart-tongued mate, my lips threatened to curve.

"And don't gloat, Edward. It's tacky," she said, not even bothering to look over to me. She did elbow me in the ribs, however, grunting a little when my damnable vampire flesh didn't give.

Because I was me and because I was pathetic when it came to the love of my existence, I _just_ resisted the impulse to grab her arm and shove her sleeve up so that I could soothe away the bruise that was already likely forming. Knowing she'd likely disapprove, I told myself I'd just look when she was asleep.

"Plus, I'm still pissed at you."

Slack-jawed, bruise momentarily forgotten, I turned. "What did _I _do?!"

"You mean besides nearly starting World War III?"

"Well… yes."

And to the reader, I maintain that my actions were justified. We vampire mates can be a little… _possessive_. And fine, a little… _violent _when it comes to protecting what's ours.

It's just what we do, okay.

Frankly, the dog's just lucky that my brother in law is the undead equivalent of a MMA fighter.

Otherwise, he'd be in the ground.

Recalling all too well the vivid, godawful image of him virtually assaulting my mate, my eyes narrowed and a low, subsonic growl rumbled in my chest.

"You locked me in the damned car!" my love spat through clenched teeth, oblivious to the fact that I was about a second away from coming unglued again. She blew a misbehaving strand of hair out of her eyes and then, yanking on my shirt to make sure I was paying attention, added a second later, "That will never happen again, by the way. Okay?" She yanked again, jerking my eyes away from the dog's to hers.

"Fine," I growled, imagining all the ways I could do the dog bodily harm.

"I'm serious, Edward. You pull that shit again, and I'll stab you."

And now it was the dog's turn to gloat. In his mind, in a disturbing nasally singsong voice, he chanted that age-old children's taunt. _Neener, neener, neener._

Asshole.

"Okay!" Alice interjected, silencing us both, apparently knowing what was coming even with her normal future-telling sight blinded by the mutts' presence. "Let's get back to business. If you don't mind?"

Reluctantly, I nodded, forcing myself to live with the fact that I'd just have to kill Jacob another day.

Alice shook her head like _she _was the mind reader. "Those newborns are going to hit Seattle if we don't do something to lure them away. Bella's right."

"But why does it have to be _her?" _Jacob pointed over to my Bella, suddenly as serious as death itself. Fifty yards away, still stationed in their offensive line by the trees, half a dozen wolves lifted their heads. Jacob's question seemed to reverberate in their collective mind.

_Good question, mutt._ Of course, I didn't say that out loud. But I did add, "Exactly. _She _doesn't need to be involved. At all. We can lay the trail."

"_Hello._ I'm right here." My Bella sighed, lifting her face to the gray sky. "Look, for whatever reason, that red-headed bitch is after me. Right?"

Alice nodded.

My fists balled.

My mate ignored me.

"She won't be able to resist me. _I'll_ lay the trail."

If my heart had been able to beat, it'd have stopped at that very second.

Using a stick, my Bella drew a rudimentary map in the dirt. "_I'll _lead her around Seattle…" Her stick arced around a pile of leaves. "To here."

"I don't–" Jacob started.

"She'll expect at least a few wolves," she went on over the dog's protest. "But there are more now than when she was here… _before_." Her voice dropped to a whisper at the end.

Even Jacob looked away then, and as he did, something unexpectedly dark passed through his thoughts. The image came and went so fast that I barely caught it, as if it was something he didn't want me seeing. But I caught at least a fraction of it. It was Bella's father's face – a face I only recognized because I'd seen the pictures in the home he left behind – contorted in agony. There was a flash of something else, shades of browns and blacks and grays, but then it was gone.

My forehead folded as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, but my attention was jerked away when my Bella frowned. With a shiver that made me want to scoop her up, run away, and hold her for eternity, she glanced past Jacob to the smaller, younger members of the pack at the edge of the clearing. She swallowed before looking up at me with wide, liquid eyes. "And she doesn't know anything about you guys. We'll have surprise on our side."

Jacob grimaced. "What about her army?"

Bella looked over her shoulder to our line. "Jasper said that newborns can be killed pretty easily… if you know how to attack them. He can show you."

Still disconcerted by the flicker in Jacob's memory, I gazed down at my love. I knew she was right, but I didn't like it. So I told her.

"I know you don't," my Bella said to me, softer, as she reached over to lace her slender fingers between my cold ones. Her warmth bled into me, filling me with an emotion that had no name, and I silently marveled at the wonder of her willing touch. It didn't matter how many times she allowed it, I'd never get used to it. She squeezed and gave me a little smile. "But we have to try."

"Wait just one fucking minute!" Jacob blurted.

When I finally dragged my eyes away from the perfection of my love's face, I found him staring, mouth agape, at where our hands were joined.

Cocking a brow, I silently dared (begged) him to say a word.

* * *

><p><strong>You ladies are awesome. Thanks for all the kind, understanding words last round. Very much appreciated. <strong>

**PROMPT #49?**


	49. Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

**AngieNet **named this one. Shamatt0403 offered similar. And I couldn't resist.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #49: Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner<strong>

"Stop worrying so much. I've done this a thousand times, you know."

What that had to do with anything was beyond me, but before I could protest, in proof of her claim, my Bella lithely swung her leg up to straddle a vehicle that would hence become known simply as the death machine. She reached for her helmet – a rather girlish pale pink that didn't match her personality at all, by the way – and when she placed it on her delicate head, it took every bit of my self-control (fine, what was left of it after having been in the presence of those beasts all last night) to not pulverize my phone.

"Seriously, Edward," she said into the blue tooth headset I'd forced her to wear. "I've been riding since I was in my teens. Jake taught me." And then she laughed for some reason I couldn't fathom (since God still hated me by keeping her mind silent).

Of course, I did _not_ laugh because there was absolutely nothing about her on a _motorcycle _that could be what I'd call amusing.

Nothing. At. All.

As such, a wrist-thick branch somehow found its way into my hand. I may or may not have given it a little squeeze. Just a little.

Out of nowhere, though, my Bella laughed again. "I can't believe he kept this old thing!" she told me. "This is the exact same bike he and I built the summer before my senior year! Can you believe it?"

_Aaannnddd_… that wrist-thick branch found its way into the next county.

Whatever. It couldn't be helped.

Because come on! She was my love, _not his!_

That goddamned mongrel.

I really was going to have to kill him. _Soon. _

The branch (or limb… ) flew through the air, hurtling end over end, before finally slamming into a distant tree with a deafening _crack!_ A split second of stunned silence followed, wherein the only sound my ears registered was the thump of my mate's startled heart. Her head whipped toward me. "Did you just break a tree?!" she whisper-screamed.

"No," I said… albeit through gritted teeth to keep from yelling. Her lovely eyes widened and I had to fight every muscle in my body to not go to her. Instead, my fingers drilled into the old oak at my back, spilling sawdust at its base.

"Then what the hell was that?!" She was still whisper-screaming.

My teeth clamped together so hard my jaw began to fracture. "It was… a squirrel."

There was another beat of silence. Not even the leaves fluttered in the breeze. But then my Bella's lips quirked up, and with no other warning than that, she threw her head back in a fit of giggles.

I made a mental note to one day explain to my love just how _un_funny all this was. Her notion of humor was, frankly, disturbing. And she clearly had no sense of self-preservation, which was just par for the course, I supposed, not to mention the fact that she no compassion or understanding whatsoever of the literal hell she was putting her vampiric mate (me!) through.

_Women!_

"Alright," she said, still giggling as she wiped tears from her eyes. "Let's get moving before you destroy the forest."

"But… just wait a– " I started (stammered). Mid sentence, she shifted her weight, stomping on the kick-starter, and the death machine roared to life and drowned me out. "Ten minutes and then I'll stop and walk around a little," she yelled into the headset. "Don't get too close, okay?"

I didn't bother answering. Instead, from my spot two hundred and fifty yards downwind, I watched, helpless and terrified and half insane, as my willful and highly breakable mate completely ignored my perfectly reasonable pleas, offered me nothing more than a lopsided smile and offhand wave, and then sped off through the forest to lay her trail.

I counted thirty miserable seconds before starting off behind her at a slow, leisurely jog.

And so it went for the next five hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-one seconds (not that I was counting): her racing through the trees at breakneck speed (well… breakneck by human standards) to scent an arc that led around Seattle and to the Olympic Peninsula, and me trailing carefully behind, close enough to hear anyone who might approach her, but far enough that that red-headed bitch's army wouldn't smell me.

At just before sundown, her death machine finally broke through the tree line to cross the very same clearing in which I'd been dismembered only weeks ago. Pulling in between a stand of pines and a pile of rocks, my Bella (thankfully) killed the engine.

Still careful to not cross our scents, I darted around the field. As I looked out across it, I counted the fresh claw marks and footprints that littered the ground, patterned after mock battles and fights that Jasper had drilled into us decades ago. Sucking in a breath of air, I detected both dog and vampire. No blood, I noted (lamented), so obviously my general of a brother-in-law had managed to teach the mutts _something_.

"Where'd they all go?" my love asked when I appeared on the other side of her bike to steady it so she could dismount.

I turned my head slightly, listening. At the edge of my range, I could just make out the whisper of my family's mental voices. Somewhere to the far north were the dogs. "Looks like they finished a little while ago."

My Bella tugged her helmet off, dropped it to the ground, and arched a brow. When she spoke again, her voice carried an unexpected timbre that made my dried up veins flare to life and my non-existent heart pound in my chest. "So we're alone?"

Her hair was rumpled and a little sweaty, and there was mud splattered on her legs from the forest floor.

But I didn't care.

At all.

Her question hung heavy in the air and after having spent my entire afternoon a nervous wreck, now that I could see that she was safe and in one piece, I could breath again. And all I wanted to do was grab her and kiss her and maybe (definitely) destroy that godforsaken machine.

One of those would net me unpleasantness.

I settled for two out of three.

"Yeah, we are," I told her, my own voice gravelly from restraint. I thought about that stupid dog and the way his thoughts exploded with fury and jealousy when he realized that we were _together_. "And you're mine," I added a heartbeat later. I _did_ have enough self-control to censor the emphatic _Not his!_ that I wanted to say, however. Hey, I'm not that creepy, okay.

"I am?" That brow arched even higher, and there was a hint of dark amusement churning in her eyes. She licked her lips, which basically had the equivalent impact as setting me on fire. "Does that mean you're mine, too?"

Mesmerized, I just nodded.

Because I _was._

I was hers until every last star fell out of the sky.

And she knew it, too. She knew that what I felt for her was so far beyond simple _like_ that the two emotions weren't even comparable.

The knowledge was written all over face.

And she wasn't running away.

Not really caring where those stupid mutts were, eyes glued to my mate's soft, pink parted mouth like the fixated creature that I was, I took a step forward. And then another, and another, slowly walking her toward the pile of rocks until she had nowhere else to go.

Which, judging by the way she grabbed me the second her back hit stone and pulled my mouth to hers, didn't seem to bother her one bit.

Take that, dog.

* * *

><p>Happy Monday!<p>

**PROMPT #50?**


	50. Doth my eye deceive me again?

**Hello! Long time, no see, eh? **

**I won't bore you with my excuses for the long wait, but I will say that I'm going to do my best to finish this fic up without another long break. We don't have too much left… tough to say for certain due to the way this thing is being written, but maybe… 5-7 more chapters? Something like that, at least. **

**Next chapter will follow likely tomorrow. **

**So… since it's been a while, let's recap.**

* * *

><p><strong>General summary taken from Ch 40:<strong>

For the most part, this fic starts out mostly canon. Character back-stories are pretty much the same, and like canon Edward, this Edward is telepathic, too. Basically, the main differences are: a) Edward and the Cullens don't go to Forks as per canon, but instead, a few years later in the timeline, they move to Seattle where the "kids" plan to enroll in college, b) the Cullens aren't the first vampires in Bella's life, and okay, c) this Edward _might_ be just a smidge snarkier than canon E.

Once the Cullens arrive in Seattle, Edward stumbles upon Bella in one of the university libraries. As in canon, bloodlust ensues, yet this Bella is no shrinking violet. She recognizes Edward for what he is at once, calls him out on it, and threatens to stab him. The reasons and wherefores of this "damnable girl" baffle Edward, and like canon E, he runs off to Alaska to avoid eating her.

Of course, also like canon E, he's intrigued by Bella and winds up returning in short order. A second confrontation between the two occurs, and Edward later learns that he's not the first vampires to interfere with her life. Her father was killed by a nomadic vampire, who we later learn was destroyed. As such, Bella is less than thrilled by Edward's presence as she holds the vampire species in about as much regard as cockroaches.

Upon learning about Bella's loss and oddly drawn to her, Edward finally gives in and decides that it's his job to a) protect Bella and b) avenge the death of her father. In the process, against all better logic and reason, he begins to experience "feelings" for her, never mind the fact that Bella still hates him.

Later on, Edward follows Bella when he discovers that she's gone to La Push, where a pack of werewolves makes their home. To his absolute horror, she is actually "friends" with said pack. While out near La Push, Edward also a) learns that the mate of the vampire who killed her father (the red-headed bitch) is still out there, b) learns that the pack thinks this vampire is coming back for revenge and that Bella's in danger, and c) winds up getting torn apart when he betrays his position.

Ed's family saves him from becoming wolf chow just in the nick of time. Yet immediately after recovering from his near death experience, Edward returns to Bella's old house in Forks to search for possible "evidence" of the red-headed vampire. His search is cut off short, however, when Bella arrives unexpectedly, Jacob (one of the wolves) in tow. Fortunately, the wolf doesn't detect his presence, although Edward nearly loses it when he learns that Jake kissed Bella against her will. Once Jake leaves, being the stalker-y vamp that Edward is, he stays, watches Bella sleep and like all good Edwards realizes that these "feelings" he's been experiencing is actually love. Like the mated, permanent kind.

Once back in Seattle, Edward decides to tell Bella what he's learned out at La Push (and frankly, he just wants to be around her), so he confronts her at her apartment. She freaks at his unexpected appearance outside her door, passes out, and he blows through her door to catch her. After she wakes up, a somewhat uncomfortable discussion follows, during which Bella forces more out of Edward than he wishes to disclose – about the vamp after her, about his telepathic abilities, and about his feelings for her. For reasons Edward can't quite grasp, after said discussion, she agrees to his protection detail.

A couple of weeks post-discussion, while walking together to class, Edward saves Bella from certain death at the hands of a semi. The Cullens, aided by Alice's vision, which for whatever reason is somewhat "fuzzy" when it comes to Bella, arrive just in time to help clean up the mess. To avoid being associated with the accident, Edward whisks Bella away, running her as far from the city as possible.

It's there, out in the middle of nowhere, the impossible occurs: Bella kisses Edward. He doesn't understand the abrupt change in her behavior… at all… but because he's in love with her and deathly afraid that this is the only time his mate will return his affections, he tosses aside his normal antiquated sensibilities and they launch headlong into a hot and heavy make out session.

Of course, because the author of this story likes to mess with the readers, right, smack dab in the middle of said make out session, Alice catches a vision that Victoria (the red-headed bitch) is coming, along with a horde of newborns.

Edward rushes Bella back to Seattle. And then finally, after a somewhat shaky introduction to the Cullens, who Edward knows will help him protect his mate and love, and who don't behave anything like what Bella is expecting, we end chapter 39 with Bella asking Edward, "They're not real vampires, are they?"

**Ch 41 – 49**

Chapter 41 continues in the Cullens home, where Jasper, Edward's in-law/former vampire general, begins to lay out their strategy for combating Victoria's incoming army. During their discussions, to make his point about the ferocity of newborns, General Jazz plants a bloody image of Bella being torn apart by a newborn and nearly loses head when Edward comes unglued. Of course, Bella is there to calm her forever mate down.

Later on, after Bella succumbs to her human need for sleep, Edward learns that Alice, being the meddling, sometimes-future-telling vampire sister she is, has remodeled his room, providing him a bed for Bella to sleep in. After a little prodding by his bat-shaped cookie making surrogate mother, he heads upstairs, Bella in tow and much to his discomfort and delight spends the night with his mate curled up beside him.

When morning breaks, so does Edward's self-control, and the two launch into a hot yet another hot and heavy make out session, this one resulting in Bella losing her shirt and Edward losing it. However, being the eternal gentleman he is, Edward launches himself across the room when Bella goes for his belt, and the two finally have a discussion/argument about why she's changed her mind about him. Edward, being somewhat clueless, is stunned when she admits that she likes him… a lot and that she's changed her mind about hating him.

As the vampire horde continues its push toward Seattle, at Bella's insistence, the Cullens agree to engage the wolves in LaPush. Of course, Edward is more than reluctant to let Bella anywhere near them, and he's doubtful they would any help. But after some pushing and after she points out that they were able to tear him apart, he finally relents.

As expected, the initial meeting with the wolves isn't the smoothest of affairs. Jake being the dog he is flashes an image of him kissing Bella, which nearly kicks off World War III. Fortunately, Emmett is there to pin Ed down, while Alice and a very pissed off Bella (who'd been locked in the Jeep for her safety) dress everyone down and shame them into cooperating.

Another session of strategy occurs, this time with the wolves. They decide that Bella will lay a trail around Seattle, and Chapter 49 puts that plan into action. Much to Edward's horror, she rides her motorcycle (death machine) in an arc around the city and to the Olympic Peninsula, ending in the field they've decided upon for the final showdown. The chapter closes with a frantic, jealous Edward and an amused Bella both making claims on each other.

* * *

><p><strong>See you (very) soon! Thanks for your patience. <strong>


	51. Showtime

**Cecilia4059 **gave me this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #51: Showtime<strong>

If my endless years of existence taught me one thing, it was the art of patience.

You see, once one transitions from human into vampire, for all intents and purposes, the world ceases to turn. Yeah, sure, the seasons come and go and the pink, delicious-smelling faces around you appear and disappear, but really? It's all the same.

We – as in vampires – are like stone. We never fade, age, or really even change hairstyle.

Thus, the concept of urgency – a human notion driven by their limited life spans – isn't really a thing for us. In fact, as a species, we're rarely in a hurry at all. There's just no need, because we have all the time in the world.

That being said, as I stood there in the meadow/battlefield of our choosing, surrounded by my family, my Bella, and the most godawful smelling dogs ever to walk the earth, waiting for the horde of bloodthirsty, stark-raving mad newborns to descend, I discovered that I wasn't patient at all.

In fact, I was very _im_patient.

And irritated.

And angry.

And furious.

And maybe a little terrified.

Okay, mostly terrified, but I'm sure you can understand.

My Bella, despite the fact that she could and would dress down a pack of slobbering monsters and a coven of vampires all in the same breath and without batting one of her pretty little eyelashes, wasn't the most durable of creatures, you know.

And of course, because God hated me, she wasn't about to let me go fight evil without her… which offended every single one of my cast-in-vampire-stone Victorian and gentlemanly sensibilities.

But that's my issue, not hers.

Hence why after much debate (yelling), instead of being hid away where I wanted her to be, my love stood at my immediate left, wearing a decidedly aggressive expression and her father's old Kevlar vest, and sporting the biggest shotgun I'd ever seen – thanks to Jasper, who, being the soldier he was, had a collection of weaponry that rivaled that of some small countries.

Not that it'd do any real damage against other vampires, but the thing was ear-piercingly loud, and, hey, something was better than nothing.

It had also made my love grin in a disturbingly feral manner when it was given to her.

But then again, she _did_ stab me once.

"_Why is she even here, leech?"_

I glanced across the field to the tree line, where my arch nemesis-cum-ally pawed at the ground and snorted a puff of steam in the cool morning air.

Fists balling, I turned slightly and, just loud enough he'd hear, muttered out of one side of my mouth. "Have you ever tried reasoning with her?"

The dog snorted again, but then his (and the rest of the pack's) mind filled with image after image of my delicate flower of a mate telling them all where they could go. Yes, my Bella could be surprisingly direct when she wanted to be. And explicit.

"_Point taken."_

I turned to Alice, who stood on Bella's opposite side, and asked for the thousandth time, "Anything?"

Instead of rolling her eyes like she'd normally do, Alice's gaze turned distant and her features pinched in concentration. It took her a moment to speak – which nearly drove me off the deep end – but when she did, the blood in my dead veins froze. "They're just north of Seattle. They'll be here within the hour. They're following her trail."

Bella and Jasper both nodded – a show of camaraderie that was frankly annoying – and said in unison, "Told you it'd work."

I shot my brother-in-law a quick glare before looking down at my love. While she still threw off a dozen signals that said she was ready to lay waste to those asshole vampires, her heart pounded inside her chest, echoing in my head like a kettledrum.

"Are you su–"

"Don't even go there," she said, cutting me off with an elbow to my ribs. "I'm staying and that's that."

I grimaced, fighting the urge to just throw her over my shoulder all caveman style and run as fast as I could go (which, as we've already established, is _really_ fast). "But…"

"No buts, Edward." With a ferocity that made me blink and in a well practiced motion that could have only come from her father's tutelage before his death, my love pulled the pump handle of her shotgun and chambered a shell. The tell-tale _click-clack _echoed across the field. "This bitch needs to die."

I would have argued, not with her assertion, of course, because that bitch did need to die. No, she _would_ die, and it'd be at _my_ hand. Because seriously, after a century of walking the earth alone, there was no way in hell I'd let her take, damage, hurt, or even annoy my lone beacon of light. To use Alice's more modern parlance, that shit just wasn't happening.

But I didn't have time to even open my mouth to speak. Dropping her weapon into a relaxed hunter's carry, my Bella abruptly reached over, grabbed my shirt, and planted her mouth firmly against mine in a move that, no matter how many times she did it, made my undead heart kick against my sternum. My frozen self melted against her.

Hot, slick, and so incredibly alive against me, my mate kissed her way across my lips, my cheek, and finally stopped at my ear, where she lingered and sent a hard shudder down my spine. "And when this is over," she whispered, licking down to my pulse point (had I had one). "We're going to…"

Yep, that redheaded bitch was going to die.

_Now._

Okay, fine, in about an hour.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #52?<strong>


	52. Helter Skelter

**covenmama **gave me this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #52: Helter Skelter<strong>

"Get ready."

Giving my sister a slight nod, I looked down the line of my family and then across the field to signal the wolves. "How long?"

"Soon," Alice said after a second of pause, and with that single word came a blurred, fuzzy image of at least three-dozen bloodless, red-eyed creatures rampaging through the forest. At the head of their misshapen formation was a tall, brown-haired male, turned recently judging by the way he moved, but he was definitely old enough for purpose and thought. Tattered, feral looking ones – clearly picked up along the way – raced behind him, flashing blood-stained teeth and mowing down everything in their path.

Including each other.

Which, had they not been heading this way to where my beautiful mate stood fragile and helpless (don't tell her I said that), could have been fairly amusing to watch.

Seriously, as dangerous as they are, newborns can be pretty hilarious.

Think _Night of the Living Dead _– the '68 version, of course.

As it were, there was nothing funny at all about this _Army of Darkness_.

There was also no sign of that red-headed bitch.

Once that little tidbit registered, alarm skittered through my veins, and when I asked, half-frantic, Alice just shook her head. "The wolves – or maybe it's Bella – are making it hard to pin her down. Or maybe she's got some kind of gift herself, but I think she's floating somewhere at the rear."

"Damn it," I muttered, even as I extended _both_ of my senses of hearing as far as they'd go. There was nothing for a long, still moment, not even the usual sounds of the forest and its creatures. No, as those bloodthirsty predators streaked between the trees, everything went absolutely silent, with the only sound being that of my Bella's heart.

Okay, and those stupid dogs' hearts, too, but come on, where's the romance in that?

Exactly two minutes after Alice's prediction, however, came the distinct crunch of a branch. And then another, and another, until I could make out the pounding of their feet against the forest floor. Menacing growls and snarls bounced off the trees, creating a rising wave of anger and sound.

"_Two more minutes,"_ Jacob thought over to me. _"Jesus, I can smell them already."_

One of the dogs sneezed. _"God, they reek!" _

Another pawed at his muzzle and spat. _"Fucking vampires. We do get to kill these ones, right?"_

"_Right. Just not those yellow-eyed freaks over there." _

Ignoring the wolves, I sank into a low, aggresive crouch and motioned to Emmett and Rosalie, then to Alice and Jasper, and finally to my surrogate mother and father. Silently (as we vampires are wont to be), my family fanned out to the left and the right, creating an arc of steel-like protection around my fragile (yet vicious) love. And before she could stop me, I slipped in front of her, reaching behind me to grab her wrist when she would have moved around me.

"Edward!"

"Shh!" Glancing over my shoulder, _I_ cut _her_ a look for once and snapped, "Don't argue with me right now. We have bigger fish to fry."

My love's perfectly sculpted brows climbed to her hairline. "Seriously? That's your saying?!" And because my Bella had no sense of self-preservation or situational appropriateness, instead of hiding behind me and being quiet like a good human, she mocked me. "How old are you? My Grandma Swan used to say that."

I cut her another look.

Because… um, _ouch?_

Turning back to the forest, which grew increasingly loud with each passing second, I frowned and did the math. "Older than her, okay."

And of course, the love of my existence just found that… _amusing_.

Damnable woman.

"Shh!" I told her again when she would have kept giggling at my expense. "We'll discuss your old man fetish later. I need to focus on keeping you alive, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Bella said to me, soft and suddenly sweet enough that I was instantly suspicious. Her palm slid beneath my shirt and pressed against my lower back like a kiss.

But then it was gone.

And I didn't have time to lament the loss, because right about that time, a newborn crashed through the treeline in a rush of bone white skin, filthy fabric, and matted hair. Leaves blew out around it in an explosion of fluttering green.

It (and I use 'it' because it was tough to tell through all the mud and grossness) paused ten feet inside the meadow, lifted its undead face to the sky, and sniffed the air like one of those godforsaken mutts, which, by the way, Jasper had smartly positioned down-wind as to not betray their position and thus their advantage of surprise.

As I watched, still gripping my love's delicate wrist, the vampire turned left, then right, and then spun on its heel until it was staring directly at me and our line.

Our eyes – crimson to gold – met for a fraction of a second, before the thing raised its face to the sky again and bayed to the rest of the horde in a blood-curdling scream of unbridled rage and hunger.

"Hold," Jasper coolly commanded from the left flank when he caught me starting to rock forward. "Wait for them, Edward. They'll all charge at once. They're like a swarm of bees. They sting like a bitch but they're stupid."

I suppose at this point, I guess I should admit that my brother-in-law wasn't a vampire general for nothing. Seriously, the man earned his stars.

Because sure enough, no more than a second later, the rest of the army burst through the trees, and like the first, these creatures were the embodiment of thirst and chaotic fury. They stopped in unison in the very center of the meadow, sniffed around, and when they saw us – cool, calm, and far better dressed – waiting for them, a brief moment of confusion flashed across their contorted, snarling faces.

When they would have attacked, the ring-leader – that tall, brown-haired boy only slightly older than the rest – stepped out of the trees. He looked at us, and then to my lovely Bella, who, of course, peeked out from behind me exactly like she wasn't supposed to do, and that same expression of momentary confusion lit his red eyes.

Holding up his hand to quell his raging army, he yelled across the meadow, "Who the hell are you guys?"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #53?<strong>


	53. Dogs of War

**FluffyLiz** called this one. **Rita01tx **named the same a chapter back.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #53: Dogs of War<br>**  
>There was a long moment of absolute, stunned silence. No one spoke. No one moved. No one even breathed (except my Bella, of course, because, well, she had to). Instead, we all just stood there, frozen in place like the stone statues that we were.<p>

Really, who expected _that?_

Certainly not any of us. And as the brown-haired boy's bellowed question slowly sank in to our collective consciousness, a loud chorus of complete and utter bafflement suddenly blasted through both the meadow and my mind.

_"What the…"_ (Jacob)

_"Huh?"_ (another dog)

"Are you fucking kidding me?" (Rosalie, go figure)

"What in the world does that young man mean?" (Carlisle)

_"He's lying."_ (the huge, black alpha)

"Don't trust him. Don't trust any of them." (General Hale)

_"Do we attack? Can we?" _(the brown, fuzzy mutt)

_"Yeah! Let's tear them all to bits!"_ (the little gray pup)

"I'm confused." (That'd be Emmett… of course)

Even Esme – sweet, demure Esme – cut loose with a certain four-lettered word.

You know, the one that rhymes with duck.

And were we not in such a dangerous situation, I probably would have laughed at that, too. I definitely caught Carlisle's twitching lips.

As it were, instead, still maintaining my low protective stance in front of my Bella, I glanced over to our supposed Oracle, searching for some kind of answer. With a nod, Alice stilled and again gazed off into nothingness, but after a second of consideration, she just shrugged and continued to eyeball the growling newborns with as much confusion as the rest of us.

Eventually, I found my voice. "We live in Seattle and found out you were coming this way. Why are you here?" Pfft. As if I didn't already know. I stroked the back of my Bella's hand with my thumb, reassuring both her and me (okay, mostly me) that she was still there and safe.

Just as the brown-haired boy opened his mouth to speak again, one of the newborns – a stringy-haired blonde with dried blood all over her face – let out a starving howl and started toward the only source of food in the vicinity (my luscious-smelling human). Right as she passed, the boy's arm whipped out in a hard clothesline, knocking the creature to the ground. His boot smashed down on her throat with a resounding _crack!_ and he growled out something unintelligible. She flailed against him, snapping and snarling, all the while still reaching toward my mate and shrieking for sustenance. The boy stomped on her wrist, and then wrenched her arm from its socket.

Grateful for the assist (albeit a fairly gruesome one), I was even more so when as he dealt with the miscreant, his thoughts slipped beyond the immediate present and darted to the one vampire who'd yet to make her appearance.

"She's west of here, lurking in the trees," I mumbled over to Jasper, who slid a few feet further in that direction.

Without warning, there was an abrupt sickening _crunch! _as the boy – Riley, according to the broken, disjointed thoughts now coming from the rest of the horde – ripped the vampire's head off her neck when she wouldn't stop fighting.

"Holy shit," Bella whispered behind me. "Can you do that?"

I sighed.

Because, of course, now of all times, she'd want to know _that._

And why wouldn't she?

It wasn't like my Bella was a normal woman.

_Noooo_, I certainly couldn't fall in love with a _normal_ woman. Nothing could ever be that easy for me.

No, instead, I had to fall for… _her_.

Not that I was complaining or anything.

"Really, can you?" she asked me again, as we continued to patiently watch the boy tear the other vampire to pieces. When I peeked over my shoulder, my love's eyes were as wide as saucers and there was a sick kind of fascination floating around in her expression.

"Um, yes?" I said, rolling my eyes. "Now be quiet, will you?"

Bella being Bella – in other words, the confounding creature she was – she just grinned at me then. "Hot damn, I'm dating a bad ass."

I shook my head and sighed again.

Okay, fine, yes, and my chest may or may not have puffed up a little at that. I mean, who doesn't like hearing that?

Before I could revel too much in my love's approval, the sickening crunches finally ceased. With an almost exasperated air, the boy dusted off his palms and returned his attention to our line. "Sorry about that. They're…" He thumbed toward the newborns. "A handful."

I just nodded.

Because seriously, what can you really say to that?

His gaze slid past my shoulder to the shotgun-toting woman behind me. Brows lifting, his body turned, ever so slightly, but it was more than enough to give away his maker to the west yet again. I slowly dropped my hand to my side, signaling the dogs at the opposite side of the meadow to get ready.

"We're here for her," Riley said, apparently not having any clue what kind of hell he was asking for as he motioned toward my mate.

At once, unable to stop it, a low, subsonic growl rumbled through my chest and my fists curled into steel hammers that just begged to destroy.

Oblivious to my reaction – or maybe too stupid to care – he continued, "The girl belongs to a local pack of werewolves. They took someone very important from my mistress…" A bone-white face framed in fire-red curls flashed across his thoughts. "So now we're here to take someone important from them and then… to kill them all." He grinned an evil grin and his voice dropped into something out of a cheesy horror movie. "We have no fight with your coven. Now hand the girl over."

Words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Like hell, I will!"

And then a pair of ironclad arms came out of nowhere and clamped around my torso as a red, hot rage like I'd never known to exist scoured my vision.

In my mind, in a violent, welcome symphony, the pack – still down-wind and out of sight – simultaneously howled their fury. Hints of other thoughts – memories of racing through the forest, tearing through vampire flesh, crushing vampire bones – filtered through, as well, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip every single one of those godforsaken vampires to pieces and burn them to hell where they belonged.

"Chill out, dude," Emmett barked, squeezing me tight enough that cracks splintered down my sides. "Keep to the plan."

Blind with ever-mounting rage, I fought against his grip, desperate to break free and destroy those that would threaten the meaning of my existence. And with each passing millisecond, more of the pack's memories poured through my mind – more tearing and breaking and ripping body parts – and all it did was add fuel to a near-exploding inferno.

But then, something else altogether passed through the cacophony of images and thoughts, and I immediately froze.

It was just a glimmer, a brief, momentary flicker of the pale white vampire male who'd been the redheaded bitch's mate before the pack had taken him down. Only this memory didn't belong to the wolves.

No, this one belonged to the creature still hiding in the trees.

Through the redhead's crimson eyes, I watched as deep in the forest, her mate – James, apparently – knelt beneath the sweeping canopy of an ancient oak. A wicked, bloody smirk lit his expression as he shoved away the still pink, dripping wrist of another man. As he stood and walked toward me (her), I (she) glanced down.

There at his feet, lying on the ground, I saw _my_ mate's father… preserved for all time in perfect vampiric recall, still alive, screaming in agony, and begging for the fire in his veins to stop. When my love's father cried out, James threw back his head with laughter and told him to, _"Be patient, Chief. You'll only suffer for a couple of days. But then… you'll thank me– " _

Before James could finish, the bushes behind them abruptly parted, making way for a familiar, hulking, snarling, slobbering, black-furred beast.

A beast meant and sworn to kill vampires.

_All _vampires.

Every vampire.

Even the not quite yet made ones.

Even if it meant killing someone they…

To use my mate's very own and very recently used expression…

Holy shit.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #54?<strong>

**ETA: And yes, that bit at the end was intentionally oblique. Feel free to throw me your theories :D **


	54. No Ducking Way

**That'sMzPeachesTYVM** called it. Close enough ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #54: No Ducking Way<strong>

No lie, I gaped.

I gaped hard, which frankly, isn't an expression you see too often from my kind.

No, in my world, gaping equals surprise, which equals weakness, which generally equals death. And by death, I mean the real deal.

Because, well, that's just how we top tier predators are. Unless there's a good reason not to (like salvaging our fiendish souls), we pretty much kill and/or eat anything weaker than us.

Yeah, I know, vampires can be such misanthropic assholes sometimes.

Regardless, for several long seconds – or who knows, maybe it was days – I just stood there, silent and limp in Emmett's iron grip like a slack-jawed idiot as this new reality – that those reeking, filthy mutts had been the ones to kill my Bella's father, _not_ the nomads as we'd been thinking – wormed its way into my brain. Despite all my advanced vampiric faculties, the notion was just so foreign and so unexpected that at first, I experienced a rare moment of uncertainty, wondering if for once my gift had been thwarted (okay, fine, twice, since it'd _never_ worked on Bella).

In all honesty, some part of me genuinely hoped that I _was _wrong. I hoped that these mongrels – these supposed _friends_ of hers – hadn't been lying to her all these years and hadn't destroyed her father out of some kind of stupid, undead xenophobic prejudice.

See, as much as I despised them, especially that controlling asshole, Jacob, who I _would_ punch in the muzzle regardless of what happened here, I loved my Bella more.

So_ hoping_, I shored up my backbone and listened again, harder, more focused, pinpointing the redhead's quick mind with unerring accuracy now that I'd already tasted her thoughts.

But alas, dear reader, as you might have already guessed, as much as I wished it otherwise, hope was merely that.

As I parsed through the vampire's mind, the images of her James, Bella's father, and the wolves remained, lurking just below the surface of her cool, distant observation of our meadow. Through her eyes, I watched the big, black alpha's teeth lock around Bella's father's throat, snap his flailing spine like straw, and then the dog's gaping, dripping maw turned to the redhead's mate. Howling their approval, the other wolves closed in from all sides.

The memory was as bright and bold as the midday sun.

And before you ask, yes, those images _were_ memories, too, not just some fanciful thoughts meant to steer me astray. That redheaded bitch wasn't that good. Her thoughts were too real, too laden with the same rage and misery that I knew I'd experience myself if I didn't manage to keep my fragile human alive today.

Suddenly, as I observed those final moments, hearing the screams, seeing the lifeless corpses, all of those little snippets and hints I'd caught from the wolves before – that night in the forest when I'd first tracked my love to La Push, that meeting with Jacob only days ago – clicked.

As if in slow motion, I pulled Emmett's arm off of me and turned to my Bella, who, by the way, still shouldered her shotgun like a pro ready to take them all down.

"What?" she asked me, as her alert eyes darted past me to where the newborns stood in the meadow, some yanking at their hair, others snarling at nothing (typical, really). "What the hell is going on, Edward?"

Squeezing my fists until they cracked, I swallowed back my rage – a fury that now had far, far, _far_ too many targets at the moment – and fought with my inner Victorian, sometimes-sexist self as to just how much I should tell her.

Understand, on one hand, the truth would hurt, and hurting my Bella in any way was inconceivable, so much so that every undead cell in my wretched body recoiled at the mere thought. In fact, as I considered just what I _could_ stomach saying to her, I quickly decided that chewing my own arm off sounded like a freaking vacation by comparison.

Yet on the other… my love deserved to know. She _should_ know. She should know _everything_. The right was hers.

And those godforsaken mutts had _lied_ to her.

They had lied for _years._

Worse, they had allowed my love to think that they had _protected_ her when all they had protected was their own mangy, flea-ridden, soon-to-be carcasses.

That molten, red haze whipped across my vision again as my thumb abruptly splintered under the pressure of my fist. At the sound, I glanced down at it and then my Bella, blind to the spark of pain as that boiling fury washed down my spine and through each one of my limbs.

"Edward?" My Bella's voice was soft this time, a stark contrast to the bottled violence building in me. Her fingertips brushed down my forearm. "Tell me what's going on."

And because no matter what, no matter the consequences, I _was_ her creature, in every way, for all time and eternity, my teeth snapped together and my mouth obeyed her request before my brain could catch up. "Those dogs…" My teeth grinded. "They lied to you. They're the ones who–"

An ear-splitting, bone-chilling roar came from the east before I could finish, jerking my gaze up just in time to catch a snarling mountain of browns, blacks, and grays erupting from the tree line. Trees split down the middle, sending branches spearing left and right, and beneath my feet, the ground quaked.

In answer, materializing from between a pair of firs on the opposite side of the field, the redheaded bitch suddenly shot out into the open. She moved toward Riley and her newborns in a streaky blur of pale white and fire engine red.

Halfway across, the vampire stole a split-second look at our line and the woman beside me, but then, with a snarl, she spun back to face the wall of horse-sized wolves that now pounded their way across the grass.

Her features twisted into a mask of absolute hatred and she screeched at the top of her lungs, "Now! Kill them all!"

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #55?<strong>


	55. Ker-pow

**wonderfullybedazzled** called it.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #55: Ker-pow<strong>

"I'll admit, this isn't exactly how I saw this playing out."

At the end of our line and muttering under his breath, General Jasper shook his head as one of the wolves barreled toward a pair of newborns.

Blood-glutted and strong, the vampires gave it a valiant effort and lowered their shoulders like linebackers against the oncoming freight train of fur, slobber, and animal rage.

Note: I said they gave it a valiant _effort_.

As in they tried but didn't succeed.

The dog was too fast, too big, too eager for carnage, and with a thundering boom that shook the earth, Sir Newton's Laws once again proved true. Shrieking in pain and fury, both vampires sailed through the air in a tangle of flapping limbs and snapping teeth. The first slammed into a car-sized boulder a dozen yards away, splitting it down the middle from the force of the impact. The second hit the ground rolling, tumbling head over heels until he disappeared into the tree line.

With that, in the span of a single human heartbeat, a dozen more fights broke out, and the sounds of out and out war filled the air.

At the far end of the meadow, one of the older wolves – Paul – stalked a trio of newborns. Impatient and bloodthirsty, ignoring Jasper's tutelage, he went straight for the throat of the dirty blond in the center. As he struck, latching his jaws around the man's neck, a second newborn came from the left as a third leaped onto the dog's back, wrapped his arms around his ribcage, and squeezed. There was a nauseating _crack!_ of ribs breaking and then an ear-piercing whine that made me think that was it, but the mutt didn't fall. Twisting and bucking, Paul grabbed the third vampire's leg with his canines, ripped him off of his back, and then went for the kill.

Fifty yards away, in the center of the field, Riley and another wolf – this one a heavy mottled gray and black – spun in a slow, lethal circle, each one waiting for the other to move. The brown-haired boy's thoughts screamed in terror, but with a quick glance to his maker and mistress, his brow abruptly furrowed and he let out a vicious growl. A blink later, the two creatures were a rolling mass of angry shrieks, high-pitched whimpers, and snapping bones.

Behind them, two newborns pounced on the smallest gray dog, sinking their teeth into his flank and neck. When he went down, another wolf – this one bigger and meaner looking – bounded across the grass and snatched one of the newborns. Seizing the thing by its throat, the dog thrashed the vampire against the ground, beating its face into the mud before finally ripping its head off with a single yank of his teeth. Just as soon as he'd finished it off, there were already three more right there, closing in, eyes manic and teeth gleaming.

Further down, howling in fury, the big alpha twisted and writhed in the grip of a giant, hulking newborn that looked like he'd just come out of transformation. With a hard wrench, the dog's iron jaws finally locked onto the vampire's shoulder, tearing out a hunk of white flesh, but the newborn didn't let go. He just let out a roar of outrage. Grabbing the wolf's kicking hind leg, he yanked, cleaving the limb from its socket.

And beyond them, just at the edge of the clearing, Jacob and the redhead engaged in a different kind of fight altogether. Instead of brute force or strength, theirs was a lithe, lightning fast game of strike, counterstrike, feint, and parry.

The dog was good, I'll give him that. But even from our distant spot of relative safety, I could see that the vampire was quicker. When the redhead struck, eliciting shrill whines of pain each time, she moved with a kind of lightness and speed that only a handful of creatures on earth could ever match.

And by handful of creatures, I really mean one.

And by one, I mean me.

That's not vanity speaking either.

I'm just that fast, okay.

"Edward, we need to help them," Esme said, pointedly nodding to the redhead as she kicked Jacob halfway across the field.

Still keeping my eyes on the battle in front of us, ensuring that none of it came too close to my human, I didn't answer. Instead, still fuming – really, still raging inside – over the dogs' betrayal, my lips mashed together in a hard line.

"She's right," Alice chimed in, darting to Bella's opposite side. She looked over Bella's head to me. "Whatever _thing_ just happened, or whatever it was that you just saw that made you look like you want to murder the whole flipping planet… Yeah, those mutts are going to lose if we don't help." She waved me off before I could comment. "And no, I don't have to be psychic to know that. There's a dozen wolves, and three times that many vamps. The math's pretty easy. That's kinda why we had the plan to start with."

I harrumphed and shook my head.

Because really, as far as I was concerned… they could all go play catch in hell.

In fact, considering what they'd done, I was more than happy to sit on the sidelines and let them fight it out.

Does that make me a vengeful asshole?

If so, so be it.

Revenge is a vampire thing, okay. It's just what we do when our mates are wronged.

But, of course, that little show of dispassion was probably the wrong thing to do, because right then my Bella – cool and disturbingly calm in the face of utter chaos and bloody violence – turned to me and slowly asked again, "Edward, what did they lie to me about?"

The softness of my love's voice disarmed me, but the contrasting, harder glint in her eye worried me even more.

See, that glint denoted _knowledge._

Or if not knowledge, at least a suspicion of what I'd been about to say before the wolves attacked.

I guess that's what I get for falling in love with someone so cunning and smart.

But… like before, because as we all know by now, my body apparently obeys her will against all of my own better judgment, I answered her with the truth. "They're the ones who killed your father, not the vampires."

There was a round of wheezy gasps and hushed curses. My love's features simultaneously contorted. "They _what?!_" she whisper-screamed.

My throat bobbed, the rage coursing through my veins instantly dissipating at the hurt etched in her voice. When I would have pulled her to me, she stepped back, demanding that I say it again.

"James… the redhead's mate tried to turn your father. I saw it in her memories." Flexing my already-healing fists by my sides, I swallowed again. "When the wolves found them… they killed James and then your father before he could fully turn."

"No… no, no, _no!_" A multitude of emotions flashed across my Bella's face: surprise, disbelief, understanding, disgust, grief, agony, and fury, all jumbled up and echoing in Jasper's thoughts as he experienced them right along with her. The intensity – the rawness and strength – was almost debilitating, so much so that I wasn't sure how she (or Jasper) still stood. Without thinking, I reached for her again, and once more she stepped back. My mate's wide, shining eyes darted from me, to the battle still raging in front of us, and then back to me again.

"Are they really going to lose?" she finally whispered, right as an agonized whine pierced the air. In my periphery, a mass of bloody fur skidded across the grass, rolling the earth up like a scroll.

My jaw ticked, but yet again, I had no control over my mouth. "Likely." Another howl cut loose, followed by a hard crunch that made us both wince. I sighed. "Even if they manage to kill the newborns, there will be casualties."

Her lips parted and then closed. "Can you help him?"

I could only assume by him, she meant that asshole Jacob.

_Ugh. _

Nonetheless, I glanced over to Jasper, who thought for a moment before dipping his chin in a silent affirmative. "We could."

It took her a moment to speak again, but after what felt like a short eternity, my mate's expression settled into something that even Jasper couldn't recognize. "And will you?"

Even Carlisle looked taken aback. Like the rest of us, his thoughts were bloody murder at this point.

"You mean, will I help them?" I motioned to the field, not wanting there to be any miscommunication (which, as we've already proven, we excel at).

Chewing her cheek, my love slowly nodded.

As an aside, when I said that my Bella was confounding, I really meant it. Surely, especially after this little revelation, she had to be the most frustratingly confusing creature to ever walk the face of the earth, and for the thousandth time, I tried and failed to hear her thoughts.

Just so that I could see the craziness that had to be lurking in there.

Of course, I failed. God continued to damn me and she was as silent as ever.

Hence I just had to ask, "But why?!"

Small, slim, and as breakable as glass, my mate shouldered her shotgun with alarming skill and spat, "Because when this is done, I'm going to shoot that son of a bitch."

Well, okay then.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #56?<strong>

So I think I said back at Ch50 (recent summary), there would be 5-7 more chapters. It'll be just a little more than that, methinks. I'm going to try to keep the total chapter count below 60, though. I guess this is what happens when there is no outline and we just make it all up as we go, lol.


	56. Reckoning

**Vanell** called it.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #56: Reckoning<br>**

"Emmett, you and Carlisle go right," Jasper commanded, pointing to the eastern side of the field where a pair of already-limping wolves faced down half a dozen fresh newborns. "Take them out from the rear right when they move in for the attack. Aim low and no matter what don't let them get their arms around you."

Emmett – being Emmett – grinned like he'd just won the lottery and tossed Jasper a mock salute before bolting across the field with a more serious, grim-faced Carlisle in tow.

"Rosalie." Jasper quickly motioned to the middle of the field where two vampires played a brutal game of tag-team with the smallest wolf. The dog's coat glistened wet and red in the bright, noonday sun. "You take center. See if you can distract that skinny-looking blonde long enough for that gray wolf to get his teeth on the black-haired one. Take its head off like we practiced."

"Hell, yeah!" Rose answered back, as she sped away, kicking up dirt and pumping her fists in an eager, aggressive show that reminded me all over again why she and that big oaf were mated.

Like does attract like, after all.

Jasper sent Esme on a similar mission, and then he turned to Alice. Glancing down to my Bella, he told his mate, "I want you to stay here and guard Bella while Edward and I go help Jacob and Sam."

My sister nodded in agreement, even as a sudden, incapacitating fear gripped my very soul, forcing my lips to move. "No!"

A mere fraction behind me, my love uttered the same.

But I wasn't stupid (at least not about this). No, I knew my Bella far too well to think she wanted my protection.

Why, you ask?

Because I was blessed with a mate that had about _zero_ sense of self-preservation.

_Zero. _

As certainly evidenced by the fact that she agreed to date _me_ – a _vampire_, for God's sake. But more recently (as in now), by the willful, stubborn (but still beautiful) set of her jaw and the pissed off, emphatic, "I don't need protection," that followed.

Sometimes, she really made me want to tear my hair out.

But now wasn't the time for that, and despite my reservations and the absolute horror of leaving her even for a moment, even under the watchful eye of the one I trusted most, without me in the fight, some of those dogs weren't going to make it out alive.

Which, frankly, between you and me, was just fine by me.

But my Bella wanted them to live.

So she could shoot them.

Which made their survival my business whether I liked it or not.

"Yes. You _do_," I snapped, spinning my Bella around to face me. Before she could open her mouth, I picked her up like the feather she was, darted to the edge of the clearing, and set her down beside a head-high slab of rock. "If you want me to help that blasted mutt, you will stay right here and do whatever she…" I thumbed toward my inappropriately amused sister. "Says."

Okay, for the sake of brevity, I'll just summarize by saying we argued after that. Bella was mad and hurt and according to Jasper's thoughts, my mate's emotions remained a tangled mess from my prior disclosure. So, in all honesty, yelling wasn't that unexpected. Maybe not at quite that decibel level, but Bella was Bella. And, of course, _normally, _I'd be the one to back down and give her whatever she wanted, since, you know, I loved her.

But not this time. There was no way in heaven or hell or anything in between that she was winning this fight.

See, where she was furious and defiant in her independence, deep down, I was _terrified_, because if she died, I died.

"But–"

"But nothing! You. Will. Stay. _Here_." I frowned, not quite liking the taste of rudeness despite its necessity. So I added a quiet, fervent, "_Please_."

For whatever reason – not that I could read her mind or anything – that seemed to work. Instead of continuing to fight me, my love abruptly smiled far too demurely, and then she pecked me on the lips and just said, "Don't die, okay?"

Even though I didn't trust her for anything, my heart soared, hearing a thousand more unspoken things in that one little request. Wanting nothing more than to press her, I started to ask, but I was cut off when Jasper's voice silently screamed in my head. _Edward, let's go already!_

I twisted toward him and the clearing, just in time to catch the redhead leaping through the air, targeting Jacob's limp body lying on the ground. At the last possible moment, he rolled, narrowly escaping a blow that would have crushed his spine. He got to his feet (paws) with shaky, jerking movements, and shook his massive head.

_Damn it. _

With one last, fleeting glance at my Bella, as well as a pointed look to Alice, I nodded at Jasper.

And then we were off, racing out into the clearing in a pair of blurred, streaky lines that even a vampire would be hard-pressed to follow.

So, I'll just say that the tenor of the battle changed the instant my family entered the fray.

Granted, we were relatively few in number, but we were fresh and with all the years of training under Jasper, we knew what we were doing. We knew when to dodge, when to strike, and we knew all their weakest points. And better yet, most of the newborns were too stupid and crazed to fight both wolves _and_ their own kind.

Knowing this, I spared less than a second to survey the field. Judging by the screams of rage and pain coming from all around, Emmett, Carlisle, Rosalie, and Esme were all doing just fine. In fact, Emmett was laughing somewhere to the west.

And frankly, I just felt sorry for anyone who crossed Jasper.

He was brutal.

Leaving my family to their respective tasks, I sped toward the redhead to relieve the dog, darting between the various fights and ducking the random, sluggish blows.

Halfway there, I shot around one of the larger newborns barring my way and dropped low as he abruptly swung, kicking his feet out from under him before he even knew what was happening. The vampire hit the ground with a hard, quivering thud. Filled with fresh, human blood, he bounced back up, undamaged with a furious growl, but my fist was right there waiting for him, crushing his skull with a single strike.

When I ripped the vampire's head from his body, another newborn – a small thing with an Alice-like pixie cut – vaulted onto my back, sinking her razor teeth into the back of my neck. Just like Jasper had showed us, I somersaulted backward, reaching around midair, and I grabbed her by the throat. Hauling her off of me, I slung her as far as I could. She soared through the air, flying at least a hundred yards, before landing in a crumpled, moaning heap on top of another one of the redhead's creations.

To my right, the dog howled in agony, pulling my focus back to him and the redhead. The mutt was down again, this time with the bitch's arm wrapped around his neck in a suffocating chokehold.

Slowly, silently, like the alpha predator I was, I stalked toward them, coming in from rear.

"You killed him. You killed my mate," I heard her hiss, as she squeezed the dog's windpipe. Even with the deafening roars and thundering booms going all around, my ears picked up the miniscule cracks of the cartilage failing. Jacob whined and pawed at her, but it was futile. "And now I'm going to kill you and everyone you love and are sworn to protect."

Suddenly, the redhead's mind filled with images of gruesome carnage – of trampling the tribe, of drinking them all until they were nothing but shriveled husks of russet skin, of ripping them apart and laughing with glee – and she smiled a wicked, bloodthirsty smile. Jacob gave himself away, twisting toward the edge of the meadow, where my love's dark head was just visible beyond the rock. The redhead's crimson eyes followed and she hissed again. "Oh, yes, know that I'll take special delight in killing that stupid human pet of yours. Or maybe I'll drink her, kill her slowly. Maybe I'll string her up on hooks and bleed her drop by drop. Make you listen as she screams and begs for death."

Jacob whined again.

"Or maybe… maybe I'll turn her and then let _you_ kill her like that other wolf killed her father."

Okay, that was uncalled for.

More importantly, as that evil bitch imagined her claws and teeth sinking into my Bella's delicate throat, that now familiar hot, molten haze of uncontrollable fury swept across my vision once more, and every muscle in my body coiled in preparation for attack. My fists balled and without any hint of thought, I launched into the air with a vicious roar.

I slammed into the ground just behind the redhead, and before she could even turn, my hands were on her, grabbing her by the armpits. With an angry snarl, I threw her off of Jacob and across the meadow.

Agile and quick – unlike the newborns – she flipped into a graceful landing, and she started to flee.

But she didn't count on me being faster.

I was there the moment she looked up. Her arms darted up between us too late, and my fist punched through her ribcage with an ear-splitting crunch. Screeching in pain, the redhead began to back away, but that wasn't happening either.

Oh, hell no.

Not after seeing that image of her _murdering_ and _torturing_ my mate and love for all time.

For once, after a century of restraint and denying the innate horror of my existence, I let myself go.

I let myself be the damned, undead monster that I was.

I let all the rage flow out of me and into her.

And I tore that vampire to pieces, ripping her body, limb from limb, until there was nothing left but a stumpy torso.

As the redhead stared up at me in terrified agony, her mind nothing but mush, there wasn't a single second of indecision. I gripped her head between my palms, growled out something not even remotely human, and then…

Ding, dong, the witch was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #57?<strong>


	57. You Got Some 'Splainin to Do

**Ginkgo00** called it.

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #57: You Got Some 'Splainin to Do<strong>

As I chucked the redhead's remains into the growing pile of burning limbs and newborn body parts, the high of battle started to wear off.

Little by little, the remaining haze of rage cleared, and my surroundings slowly came back into focus. Wolf blood – pungent and sharp – saturated every breath I took. Holes, cracks, and curls of turned over earth dotted the once-serene meadow, and the ring of trees that had framed it looked more like random piles of sticks and broken kindling. Gray-white ash swirled up from the bonfire and rained down like snow.

In other words, it looked like World War III had just gone down on the Olympic Peninsula.

And fortunately, the Allies had won yet again.

"Get every piece," Jasper said to a still-grinning, only slightly injured Emmett and two of the less damaged dogs, as he simultaneously tossed in what turned out to be Riley's head. The rest of vampire – half a dozen other chunks and unidentifiable pasty pieces – followed, sizzling and popping when he hit the blue-white flames.

By contrast, Jasper wasn't even dirty.

I told you he was good.

"Are there any left alive?" I asked, scanning the rest of the field and stopping at the far end, where Carlisle crouched down beside a brown-black mass of fur. Patient, yet demanding like any good doctor, he ordered a half-naked teenager – one of the wolves who'd apparently been in good enough shape to shift back – to fetch his bag from the Jeep. Flabbergasted at being sent off like any old errand boy, the kid opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind the second the wolf on the ground let out a high-pitched whine.

One corner of Jasper's mouth tugged up into a wry smile. "You mean the wolves or the newborns?"

I shrugged. "Either? Both?"

"All the wolves are accounted for, although a few are in pretty rough shape." He motioned down field to Carlisle and his writhing, canine patient. "That one's pretty much crushed on the inside. It'll take him a couple of days to knit back together."

I winced, because… _ouch_.

Been there, done that, and all.

"What about the newborns?"

Jasper made an irritated face. "Esme – you know how she is – she took pity on a couple of the younger ones." Arms crossed, he pointed with his chin to a trio of ragged-looking vampires who sat cross-legged on the grass between my _mother_ and Rosalie. When one started to move, Rose cuffed him on the back of the head. He behaved after that. "She wants to take them up to Denali to see if Tanya can teach them a thing or two."

I snorted. "She'll teach them _something_, I guess."

"Poor bastards." Jasper's shoulders shook, as a memory of Tanya making calf-eyes at Emmett took shape in his mind. Of course, at the time, Em had been too busy drooling over the giant grizzly he'd just taken down to really notice, but Rosalie _certainly_ had. She was _not_ pleased with our _cousin_. At all.

We'll just leave it like that.

"You going to go fetch your girl, or what?" he said after a second, twisting at the waist to the only untouched corner of the clearing.

I winced again, although this time it had nothing to do with those mutts.

As I followed his gaze to where my love stood, wide-eyed, staring at me, and hugging herself in a way I'd not seen since I'd knocked on her apartment door so many weeks ago, her emotions, echoed in Jasper's thoughts, cut me like a dozen razors.

See, despite all that bravado and boldness from before the battle, my Bella was now terrified.

Again.

And in serious shock.

Which, okay, really wasn't that surprising considering the gruesome display of immortal combat she'd just witnessed. I mean, she was still very much human. And seeing a bunch of bloodthirsty vampires and horse-sized dogs literally rip each other apart less than 50 yards away was enough to try even the bravest of souls. There was no possible way she could have been prepared for that.

Without another word, drawn to her like a magnet (opposite poles, of course, for all you physics majors), I crossed the field, hands out to my sides, keeping my pace slow and carefully _human_. With each step I took, I prayed to a dozen deities that she'd not turn me away, that in my efforts to protect her from harm, I hadn't just wrecked any chance I had with her.

"Bella?" I said, barely above a whisper, as I motioned for my sister-cum-sentinel that I'd take her from here. Before she skipped off to find Jasper, Alice gave me a subtle wink and silently told me to chill and not to worry.

Yeah, _right_.

Not when my mate was staring at me like the very monster I'd just shown myself to be.

"Bella?" I said again, still keeping my hands spread wide. "It's over, okay?"

Mutely, she just continued to stare at me, eying me up and down like I was some kind of undead freak (no news there), and in the process broke my unbeating heart a little more with each passing second.

I swallowed… _hard_. "I'm not going to hurt you. I _promise_."

At that, she finally moved. Her nose wrinkled and her head tilted to the right. "What?"

Cringing, I stepped closer, still keeping plenty of space of between us. "I would never hurt you," I told her, cringing again. "I _can't_."

Her face really screwed up at that point, but then, as if _she_ were the mind reader, not _I,_ her brows climbed. Her lips parted into a small, surprised, 'o'.

Abruptly, without any warning, throwing down the shotgun she still held, my Bella shot forward at a flat run and before I knew it, her soft, warm, fragile little body slammed into mine. Snaking her arms around my neck, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist. As I pulled her close without even thinking, hot, moist lips peppered my dumbfounded face and neck. "_Idiot_," she said between kisses. "I wasn't scared _of_ you. I was scared _for_ you!"

A searing, swelling heat surged through my chest, and I pulled back just enough so that I could look into her frantic eyes. "Yeah?"

"Stupid vampire," she mumbled, pressing her lips to mine. "I _love _you."

I swear to God, at that moment, a band of angels appeared in the sky, singing a loud, deafening chorus of, _"Hallelujah!" _

I'm not exaggerating either.

Seriously, the entire world lit up like a gigantic, incandescent candle. Colors seemed brighter. Shapes were bolder. And that godawful stench of wolf blood evaporated, erased by the most beautiful bouquet I'd ever scented.

"Yeah?" I whispered, kissing _her_ this time, basking in the most intense, overwhelmingly _good_ sensation I'd ever felt in all my years walking this earth. "Tell me again."

Bella's lips spread against mine and she chuckled. "Don't press your luck, Bub."

I couldn't help it. I grinned like the idiot she named me to be and repeated the same soft, "I love you," back to her a dozen times, until she finally rolled her eyes, relented, and with a matching grin, gave me exactly what I wanted.

_Her. _

Of course, as all things must do, eventually our little moment ended. From behind us, there was the soft approach of bare feet on grass and then a quiet cough. When I listened, the dog's mind spun in a tangle of anger, sadness, exhaustion, and shame.

"What do you want, _Jacob?_" my Bella growled, sliding down my body until her shoes hit the ground. Stiff and jerky, with her fists balled and on her hips, she stepped around me to face him.

"Bells…"

"_What?!"_ My love's features twisted into that of absolute fury. "Are you going to tell me I _can't associate with the enemy?_"

And now it was my turn to growl, because… over my undead body would that _ever_ happen.

Waving me off, she stalked toward the mutt. Her voice dropped. "Or are you going to kill me too if I choose to be with him?"

Every creature in the meadow froze, including me, waiting to see if World War _IV_ was about to kick off.

The dog's mind flew to the memories that he'd tried to hide before, and as he finally let them loose, I saw Bella's father, screaming in agony as venom flooded his veins, and then screaming even louder as the wolves ended him. Jacob's features fell. "I'm sorry," he said, breathless, looking like he'd just been beaten. "I know it doesn't mean anything now, but we'd never come across one turning before. We didn't know what to do. We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought we were protecting you."

"Protecting me? You killed my father, you asshole!" my Bella screeched.

She flew at him then. Like a raging tempest, she landed a hard left hook that hurt her a hell of a lot more than it did him. I immediately moved to pull her away in case he reacted, but I'll give the mutt credit.

The dog didn't do a thing.

He didn't even raise his arms to fend her off.

No, Jacob just stood there, filled with regret and shame, and he let my love rail against him until she ran out of steam.

"I want to kill you," she said when she finally stopped. Her fists were purple and swollen, and I had to fight myself to stay where I was. "I _should_ kill you." Her eyes flew to the shotgun still on the ground.

Of course, I knew as well as he did that that puny little thing wouldn't do much to him at all.

But… if my love really wanted him dead, I'd make it happen.

Happily.

Downright gleefully.

I'd move the earth if she asked it.

And that little fact, he knew with one fleeting look at my face.

"Go ahead," Jacob answered aloud to her, and then a second later, silently to me, as he hung his head. "It's your right."

For what felt like an eternity, we all just stood there, stock still, frozen, and waiting for my Bella to speak. Inside her chest, her heart slammed, running at a rabbit's pace. Without her mind, it was the only indication I had that she was seriously considering it.

After a moment, her eyes squeezed shut, however, and her heart began to slow. Another long second passed, and then she turned and softly said to me, "Edward, let's just go home."

Okay, not going to lie here, I wanted to argue.

Yet as I watched my love's shoulders slump and as I saw her shake her head in disappointment and sadness, I realized something else.

I suppose I had yet another epiphany of sorts.

Yes, my Bella was willful, defiant, and fiercely independent. And at times she could be wholly irrational and frankly, a little… _volatile_.

But she was also soft inside. Deep down, behind the wall of hurt and anger that went up the day the monsters came and her world turned upside down, there was sweetness, loyalty, and an ability to forgive that never died.

I didn't understand it.

I didn't agree with it.

But in short, I realized that I didn't have to. My mate was a better person than me.

So… never mind that I wanted those mutts drawn and quartered on her behalf, after a second, without another word, I picked her up, cradling her against my chest as gently as she'd allow, and did exactly as I was told.

I took her _home_.

* * *

><p><strong>PROMPT #58?<strong>


	58. Home

Lots of folks called this one, or some close variation of it, and, hey, I'm all for majority rules.

Oh, and… I think this is where we'll end it. It's as good a place as any. So… **last chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Prompt #58: Home<strong>

"Tell me you meant it."

My love's eyes slid to mine, lazy and unfocused, as I happily continued my assault on both her breasts and her equilibrium. "What was that?" Like her gaze, her words were slurred and languid.

Ecstatic that I could affect my mate to the point of drunkenness, I grinned around her nipple, and then sucked in the way I knew she liked. A soft, delicious little moan spilled from her throat, and when her fingers tangled themselves in my hair, yanking and tickling my scalp, I just grinned again and swapped to the other breast. "You know what I'm talking about. Tell me you love me."

She made a half groaning, half laughing kind of noise. "You're killing me."

Well, not exactly.

At least, not yet.

That would come after the end of the semester.

Or, at least that's what she said she wanted. And as we all know by now, her wish is my command, and all that.

To use Alice's more modern parlance, that's just how we vampire mates roll.

Of course, _normally_, being the brooding, self-loathing creature I can sometimes be, I'd have balked at the notion of any human wanting to be like me. There's just too much at stake – you know, little things like souls, humanity, and chocolate cake.

But see, while I may be an idiot on occasion, I'm no fool.

So when the love of my existence told me the other night that she wanted me for not one lifetime, but for _all_ time, I wasn't about to argue. No, I just stood there in the doorway to my (our) bedroom and nodded, dumbfounded and bursting inside, as another one of those heavenly choirs descended from the sky and sang their glorious song.

Hence why we were celebrating.

You know, just her and me.

And despite what she said just above, _she_ was the one doing the killing.

As evidenced by the last hour's worth of suffering south of my waistline.

Oh, but it was worth it.

And then some.

"Tell me," I pressed again, swirling my tongue around my love's hard, pink nipple one last time before moving up to her neck so that I could lick that delicate spot just above her pulse. The skin there was as soft as silk, so thin that when brushed it with my lips, I could feel her blood racing just beneath. Her heart beat a jagged rhythm, pushing the blood faster and faster, generating a whine that literally sang to every cell in my body.

I groaned as I licked, and as my hand dropped from her hip, slowly – ever so slowly – walking down bare flesh to the hot, damp place between her thighs, a fresh burst of pheromones hit my nose, and in the process nearly stole my sanity.

"Fine, I love you," she panted, squirming against me when I hesitantly began to touch her in the most intimate of ways. Inside, she was so unbelievably hot, and once again, as I played her body, coaxing noise after whimpering noise from her lips, I was thankful for all those years of reading minds.

When I hit a certain spot, her back arched off the bed, and a pale, dusty rose spread across her neck and chest. Because I could, I retreated, only to make her arch once more when I found that spot again. But as I went to push her button (take that however you want) a third time, my Bella grabbed me by the chin and jerked my mouth up to hers.

"If you don't give me an orgasm right now," she said, biting down on my lower lip in a move that made my hips involuntarily rock against her thigh. "Edward Cullen, I swear to God, I really will stab you."

I froze at the aggression and vehemence in my love's voice, but then groan-laughed as she purposefully – _meanly_ – shifted her leg and brushed against those unnamable parts of me, which frankly, not to be vulgar here, were about to burst.

Because _she_ could, she did it again, and again, and again, until I squeezed my eyes shut and admitted, "You're not the only one suffering."

Now it was her turn to laugh, which she did.

Loudly.

And then, too sweetly, my Bella batted her eyelashes and whispered, "Then why don't you hurry up and do something about it?"

My eyes locked with hers.

And then her mouth was on mine, all slick and hot and everything good.

A minute – or maybe an hour – later, she reached down between us. Mesmerized, enthralled by the way she touched me, I just watched. As her hand closed around me, a hard shudder rolled down my spine and I'm not exaggerating when I say that I made a sound that had no definable name.

I think I saw God.

When I couldn't stand her teasing anymore, carefully, giving my Bella all the time in the world to change her mind, I extracted her heavenly hand and repositioned until my hips rested in the cradle of her soft, warm thighs. Because I was ancient and raised that way, I paused, asking with my body as much as my mouth. "Forever."

Suddenly serious, my Bella nodded, giving me my answer. And as she kissed her way across my neck and face, I did what any good vampire mate would do.

I made love to my soon to be forever-wife.

Okay, fine, and because, my _God_, I destroyed every bit of the furniture.

And then, after replacing said furniture, _we continued blissfully into this small but perfect piece of our forever._

Or… something like that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note: <strong>

Thanks to everyone who gave this little experiment a shot. Working without an outline was certainly a different experience for me, not to mention harder than I thought it'd be. I'm sure some of you (especially those of you who waited and read it all at once) noticed some inconsistencies in tone and style and maybe even a few holes here and there. But… all in all, I think it turned out okay, yeah? Either way, it was fun for me. :)

Thanks again for reading and a huge THANK YOU to all those who gave me prompts along the way. You're awesome.

-kate


End file.
